


A Series of H/C One-Shots for Voltron

by carefulren



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Injury, Minor Injuries, Multi, Prompt Fill, Sick Character, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-10-04 14:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 92,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10281239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: These are prompt fills from Tumblr! I'll add to it as I fill more prompts!





	1. All Paladins Injured, Pods Down, Lance Ignoring Injuries Until He Collapses

It was becoming common knowledge amongst the paladins that they did not do as well in hand-to-hand combat as compared to fighting with their lions. However, in some cases, attacking on foot seemed like a better option than attacking with the lions. 

They had come across a small Galra base on an abandoned planet. They wanted to try and find out any plans for the main Galra ship, so they decided to attack on foot while the castle hovered nearby in case of necessary assistance.

They had plotted and planned for two days, but when the day to attack came, they had quickly realized that they severely underestimated the amount of Galra in the base.

The fight was brutal; there were Galra at every corner, but whether it was sheer force or will, the paladins somehow won– but not without injury. They, as well as the castle, took a severe beating, especially Lance.

While he had been racing to catch up with Pidge and Hunk during the battle, he had gotten stopped by three Galra soldiers wielding large, hammer-like weapons. His Bayard was practically useless when being surrounded by the three, and before he had a chance to shout for help, the three were on him, knocking him to the floor and slamming their weapons down on him. He had heard what seemed to be every rib crack from the force, but Pidge and Hunk had come to his aide moments later. 

Pidge and Hunk had fought off the soldiers before dropping to their knees beside him, but he had hopped to his feet despite his protesting limbs and waved away their concern, telling them that his armor took majority of the beating.

He figured a few hours in the pods would be good for all of them; however, when they got back to the ship, Coran informed them that the pods were down thanks to a hit the ship took. So, the paladins were forced to bandage themselves up the old-fashioned way, and Lance took to helping the others while Allura, who was exhausted, rested and Coran piloted.

Lance’s chest hurt with every crackling inhale, and sharp movements resulted in searing pain flaring across his ribs. But, he ignored it in favor of running between the others’ rooms because they were worse off than he was. 

Shiro was sporting a nasty head injury that needed to be bandaged then iced. He was at risk of concussion, so Lance had to wake him frequently to determine if the older paladin was concussed or not.

Hunk’s back was colored blue and black after being slammed into a wall, and Lance carried an armful of ice packs to the yellow paladin’s room. He placed each one gently across Hunk’s bare back, promising to return to replace them as soon as he could.

Pidge’s entire side was bruised after being grabbed and tossed against a pillar before anyone had time to stop it. Lance also brought her ice packs and tucked them against her side, apologizing profusely as she hissed in pain. 

And, Keith’s arm may or may not be broken; Lance couldn’t tell. The red paladin had taken a heavy foot to the arm, and now he couldn’t move it. Lance was concerned, but there wasn’t much he, or anyone for that matter, could do until the pods were back up and running.

As Lance ran between the rooms, his chest began to tighten and throb, and breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. His mind said “broken ribs!”, but be couldn’t stop. He was the only one who was able to walk and help. So, he ignored the crackle in his lungs and the pain that had him sweating and pressed on.  

However, after two hours of running between the four rooms, his movements were becoming sluggish. But, he countered the worried looks he was receiving with light-hearted jokes and a smile that never reached his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go. He was forced to breathe in weak, choppy breaths in order to alleviate some of the pressure off his chest that was leaving him breathless, and he couldn’t twist his body without pain burning through him and leaving his knees buckling. 

Luckily, he only had to check on Keith once more before he could take a short break; however, Keith was prone to not making things easy for him. When he walked into the red paladin’s room, he found Keith slumped against the wall about to fall over. 

Lance ran over with just enough time to catch Keith as Keith’s legs gave away. The weight pressed against his ribs had him gasping as blinding hot pain coursed through his entire body, and Keith looked up with wide eyes. 

“Lance?” 

Heat was prickling across Lance’s skin, and he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat as he helped Keith regain balance. 

“Lance, what’s wrong?” 

Keith’s voice was firm, concerned, and Lance wanted to reply but the room was starting to spin. “I,” he muttered, voice weak. He tried to blink away his blurring vision; he could see Keith’s lips moving, but everything sounded as if he were drowning under water. The pressure on his chest was too much now, and he wasn’t able to get any air in. He could see Keith’s panicked expression only inches from his face, then everything went black. 

*****

“How long until the pods are up?” 

Hunk’s worried voice pulled Lance from his sleep. 

“Coran said it shouldn’t be much longer.” 

He tried to sit up, but the movement left him falling back and curling onto his side as a strong coughing fit wracked his slender body. 

“Easy, Lance!” 

Tears sprang in Lance’s eyes as each cough tore its way up Lance’s throat. He clutched at his chest as his vision started to grow dark from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you tell Coran he needs to hurry?”

Lance couldn’t pinpoint the second voice. He heard someone quickly exit the room, and he craned his neck to see Keith hovering over him, face drawn in concern. His eyes fell onto the makeshift sling that was holding Keith’s arm, and everything began to come back to him in waves. 

“Hurt,” Lance breathed out, motioning weakly towards Keith’s arm as he struggled to catch his breath. 

Keith huffed. “So are you,” he spit out harshly. “Pidge said a lot of your ribs are broken.” 

Lance swiped at his watering eyes when he was finally able to catch his breath. “You guys need help,” he wheezed out, wrapping one arm around his ribs. 

Keith’s face softened significantly. “So do you.” 

Lance shook his head. He moved to get out of bed but stopped when Keith’s free hand slapped down onto his shoulder. 

“Lance, you need to stay in this bed until we get you into a pod. It’s not easy catching you with one arm, you know.” 

Lance frowned. “Did I pass out?” He raked his mind for answers but everything was a blur. 

“Yep,” Keith said, sitting down gently onto the edge of the bed. “So, you need to lie here and rest until we can get you into a pod.” 

“But-”

“Lance!” Keith spit out sharply, and Lance winced. He dropped his gaze to his hands, clutching at the blanket laying over him with trembling hands. 

Keith sighed and cupped his hand over Lance’s shaking one, which prompted Lance to look back up at him. 

“Let us take care of you now. Okay?” 

Lance nodded, defeated. He wanted to be up and helping, but Keith’s thumb stroking gently across the back of his hand was the reassurance he needed that everyone was going to be just fine. 


	2. Lance Collapsing Out of the Blue

Lance wasn’t sure how it was possible to get sick in space. So far, no one had gotten sick, and he was hoping to keep the trend. But when he woke up with a pounding headache and a stuffed-up nose, he figured the universe hated him and decided he should be the test subject for being ill while in space.

He briefly contemplated approaching Coran about being put in a healing pod, but asking Coran would lead to questions as to why he wanted to go in. Lance didn’t want anyone to know he wasn’t feeling well- he didn’t want to be a burden towards anyone. And, they had far too much training to do. They couldn’t afford to stop for a few days.

So, Lance decided it best to keep it quiet. He thought back to what his older brother always said when he told him he was feeling ill- “suck it up, hermanito.”

*****

The one thing Lance loved about himself was his ability to seem happy and normal despite not feeling that way. The pounding in his head had morphed into what felt like an entire marching band parading around his brain, making it hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds. He gave up being able to breathe through his nose, so he took to not talking as much so no one would hear his raspy, congested voice. Every once in a while, he would excuse himself to the bathroom, claiming he drank too much water, to sneeze repeatedly and cough his lungs out.

But with all that, he kept an easy smile on his face and stayed animated throughout the breakfast conversations. There was only one, minor incident where a sneeze snuck up on him, but he managed to convince everyone that he accidentally inhaled some pepper.

If he could hold a steady thought for more than three seconds, he would allow himself to be concerned at how gullible his friends had become. But, maybe he was just a brilliant actor- perhaps he chose the wrong field of study.

A sudden tickling in his nose had Lance hopping up from his seat at the table. “Bathroom,” he announced with a sheepish smile that earned groans and “you have the bladder of a squirrel, Lance” from Pidge. He waved off their reactions and started towards the door, only to stop upon feeling suddenly incredibly hot- and not in the ‘good looks’ way. 

This was the ‘something bad is about to happen’ kind of hot. There was a prickling sensation shooting across his overheated skin. He could feel sweat sliding down the back of his neck. He tried to swallow the panic and nausea clawing up his throat as his vision started to blur.

A glance at the door still a few feet away told him he wasn’t going to make it. His knees began to tremble, and his breaths started to come out in short, choppy gasps. But, he had to try. He took one shaky step forward, but then everything went black.

*****

For a moment, no one moved. All eyes just stared at Lance’s crumpled body on the floor, but after a few more seconds, Keith pushed away from the table and started towards Lance with everyone else hot on his heels.

“Lance?” Keith grabbed his friend’s shoulder and rolled him over to see his face. He gasped at the sight- Lance was incredibly pale and had a thin sheen of sweat coating his face. His expression was scrunched up and pained, and he was sporting an unhealthy flush across his cheeks.

“Fuck,” he hissed out, moving as Shiro nudged him away.

“Can he go into a healing pod?” Shiro asked Coran but not taking his eyes away from Lance.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” Coran started, “unless he has a physical injury that’s causing an infection.”

“What if he does?” Keith asked, raising his brows at Coran.

“Doubtful,” Pidge said, placing a small hand on Lance’s forehead. Frowning, she moved her hand to his neck to check his pulse. “I think he’s just sick. It was bound to happen to one of us at some point.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?” Keith asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s Lance,” Hunk started as he shooed everyone away to pick Lance up bridal style. “He probably didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“Mission not accomplished,” Keith muttered under his breath as he followed everyone towards Medical.

*****

Lance started with a groan. He didn’t feel any better, but at least he was remotely comfortable. He pried his tired eyes open, glancing around at all of his friends staring down at him. “Got somethin’ on my face?” He muttered, smiling softly.

“Lance,” Allura said from the foot of his bed. “You should have told us you were feeling ill. We need to know the second you start to feel off because the healing pods aren’t equipped for illness- only injury.”

“Got too much to do,” Lance said before jolting into a sitting position as a coughing fit ripped up his throat.

“No. The only thing you need to do right now is rest, Lance.”

Lance shifted his glance towards Shiro, who was watching him with concern. He looked around and realized everyone was looking at him with varying degrees of concern, and this was exactly what he didn’t want.

“I’m fine,” he muttered out weakly.

“You aren’t,” Hunk said firmly, and all eyes turned towards him. “You are running a high fever, you sound as if you are going to cough up a lung, and you passed out. You aren’t fine, Lance.”

Lance looked down at his hands, only to look back up when a warm hand landed on his shoulder. He met Hunk’s eyes with his own watering ones.

“We just want you better, Lance,” Hunk said softly, earning varying sounds of agreement from behind him.

Lance nodded- unable to form coherent words. He allowed Shiro to help him lie back down then watched with heavy eyes as everyone started towards the door to leave.

“New rule. If anyone is feeling even remotely sick, they say so right away. Understood?” Shiro looked around the room at everyone agreeing before his eyes fell on Lance.

“Okay,” Lance whispered. He waved as everyone exited the room to give him rest, narrowing his eyes as Keith lingered behind.

“New rule,” Keith started. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Lance rolled his eyes as Keith walked out the door before drifting off to sleep.


	3. Lance Hiding Being Sick While On Road Trip With Keith

The road trip was Lance’s idea. He wanted to spend a week with Keith in a more casual, intimate manner. So, when he woke himself up sneezing the morning they were set to leave, he shoved any thoughts of getting sick towards the far back of his mind.

However, two hours in, and he was starting to feel off. But, he didn’t want Keith to find out, so he did his best to subtly hide his ailments. He would clear his irritated throat to try and avoid coughing when Keith was distracted by something out of the passenger window. Anytime his breath hitched, he would quickly turn his head as if engrossed by something outside to stifle a sneeze. And, when his nose started running mercilessly, he made an off-hand comment about how the radio was too quiet and turned it up in the hopes that it would mask his constant sniffling.

Their first stop was for brunch at some local fast food chain. After some debate, they decided that drive thru would be best if they wanted to get to their destination by night fall. Lance asked for extra napkins at the window, and when Keith raised his brows in question, he told Keith that the last thing he wanted was to make a mess in his car and not have ample supplies to clean it up.

Keith insisted on feeding Lance his nuggets despite Lance’s protests that he was a professional at eating and driving simultaneously, and for the next forty minutes, the two ate and giggled as if they were still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship.

When Keith declared that he’s going to take a nap after they polished off the food, Lance agreed all too quickly, which prompted Keith to shoot him a questioning look.

“Sick of being with me already?” Keith asked, one eyebrow arched playfully.

“Of course not,” Lance replied, mock offended. “How could you even say such a thing?”

“You are too eager for me to nap. Are you going to play Shakira while I sleep?”

No, Lance thought solemnly to himself while keeping a smile plastered across his face. Constantly stifling sneezes was beginning to hurt his chest, and he wanted a brief moment of freedom to sneeze fully when need be.

“You got me,” he replied easily, waggling his brows at Keith.

“You better not sing at the top of your lungs,” Keith laughed, snuggling further down into his seat and crossing his arms. “If you wake me up, I’ll be pissed.”

Lance breathed out a low laugh despite his scratchy throat. “I’ll be quiet,” he said, glancing over to see Keith nod.

He waited at least twenty minutes until he was confident that Keith was asleep based on the steady rise and fall of his chest. He had been stifling sneezes while waiting for Keith to fall asleep, but now that he was sure, he grabbed one of the rough fast food napkins, pressing it against his nose and sneezing harshly once, twice, three times. He rubbed at his nose, sniffling pitifully.

The off feeling from before was starting to flare into a cold, but still, he didn’t want to ruin this trip. He vowed to do his best to keep it from Keith.

The tickling in his nose picked up once again ten minutes later, and he pressed the napkin to his nose with just enough time to sneeze four times into the rough material.

“Are you okay?”

Lance’s single-hand grip on the wheel tightened at the sound of Keith’s voice. He slowly moved the napkin away from his nose, glancing to see Keith watching him with questioning eyes.

“Of course,” Lance said, doing his best to keep his voice confident and upbeat despite the energy depleting from his body.

“Are you sure?” Keith asked, voice gentle, worried. “You’ve been sneezing an awful lot. I wouldn’t want us to crash if you get caught up in a sneezing fit or something,” he added, tone all but dripping with concern.

Lance mentally cursed himself for not being more cautious while Keith was sleeping, but it had been such a relief to sneeze freely for a bit. “Allergies,” he lied easily, shooting Keith a wide-tooth grin.

Keith frowned back at him but didn’t press further, and Lance considered that a win. The two fell into a comfortable silence, with the only sounds filling the car coming from the radio and Lance’s more frequent sneezing and coughing.

However, an hour later, and Lance started to shiver. His head was throbbing, and he couldn’t go five seconds without having to cough or sneeze.

“Lance,” Keith said, breaking the silence with a firm voice.

“Hmm?” Lance kept his eyes on the rode.

“Let me drive for a bit. You should rest.”

Lance shook his head. Despite feeling completely terrible, he had told Keith he would drive majority of the trip since Keith had seemed hesitant to agree at first because of the long distance.

“I’m fine,” he said despite his chattering teeth.

“You really aren’t,” Keith pressed firmly. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s cold,” Lance countered.

“No, it’s really not.”

Lance sighed, feeling defeated. He finally nodded after a few moments, and eased the car off to the side of the road.

Keith was quick out of his seat, pulling Lance’s door open only seconds later. Lance moved sluggishly, feeling incredibly tired, but when he went to stand, Keith stopped him by pressing a cool palm against his forehead.

“I knew it,” Keith frowned. “You’re running a fever.”

Lance only wrapped his arms around himself in response. He allowed Keith to help him up and over to the passenger seat, but when Keith moved to shrug out of his light jacket, Lance held a hand up.

“Stop,” he tried weakly, but Keith already had the small jacket off and draped over him.

“Just rest, Lance,” Keith said before gently shutting the car door.

Lance pressed his head against the cool window, nodding off only seconds later.

*****

Lance came to a few hours later, glancing around with tired eyes to find the car empty. He sat up despite his aching limbs with a frown. A half-lit sign blinking “Galra Drug Store” had his attention turning to look out the driver side window.

He watched Keith walk out of the store with a bag in hand, opening the driver’s side car door only moments later.

“I got you some medicine and tissues,” Keith said, plopping the bag onto Lance’s lap, and Lance’s frown deepened.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, voice rough and thick with sleep.

“Lance,” Keith sighed. “You’re sick. You’ve got a fever, and your nose is all red from those fast food napkins.”

Lance poked weakly at his irritated nose, wincing at the burn. He nodded, digging into the bag to find fever reducers, water, and tissues.

After he downed to pills, he ripped the tissue packet open with trembling hands as Keith pulled out of the drug store parking lot.

The car fell into silence once more for a few hours. Lance was content using the soft tissues whenever he needed to sneeze, but when he went to reach for another, he found the packet empty.

He tried the glove box but found nothing, and one quick look outside told him that they were nowhere close to a stop that would have tissues. He sighed, sniffling wetly and pulling his jacket sleeve down over his hand to rub at his runny nose.

“You’re a mess,” Keith said fondly as he glanced to the side to see Lance rubbing vigorously at his nose with his jacket sleeve.

“Shut up, Keith,” Lance called back with a pout, falling back against the seat and crossing his arms as he settled in for a long ride.


	4. Prisoners Lance and Keith with Lance Badly Injured and Keith Very Worried

The pain was hot, blinding. He didn’t think it was possible to puncture his suit, yet there he was- locked up with Keith in a tiny Galra cell on an abandoned planet with blood oozing from a large, deep gash that stretched from his right shoulder diagonally down to his left hip. Of all the ways to go out, this was not how he pictured it.

“Lance!”

Lance rolled his head to the side, blinking up at Keith’s worried face hovering over him. “Hmm?”

“I’ve been calling your name for two minutes now!”

Keith’s voice was frantic, and Lance knew he should be concerned. But, he couldn’t pull his focus away from searing pain pulsing from the gash. The only solution would be to sleep obviously, but every time he closed his eyes, Keith shook him awake.

“Sorry,” he wheezed out weakly. Talking hurt. Hell, breathing hurt. Each deep rise of his chest pushed hard against the gash, so he had taken to breathing in short, choppy breaths that weren’t deep enough to irritate the wound.

“It’s fine,” Keith said, getting to his feet. “Just please stay awake for me, okay?” He looked down at Lance while raking his fingers through his hair, and Lance offered a small nod in reply.

Lance watched tiredly as Keith kicked and slashed at the bars of the cell once more with his Bayard. The entire cell seemed to shake and creak from the force, but Lance was having trouble seeing if it was working.

“Keith,” he rasped out, concerned that Keith was going to hurt himself. “Just stop.” By this point, he’d already accepted that the odds were not in his favor, and he didn’t want to spend whatever time he has left watching Keith go mad.

“I can’t stop,” Keith gasped out, chest heaving from exertion. “I have to get you out, Lance.” He turned his attention back to slashing at the bars, and Lance winced as each clang echoed against the walls.

He really didn’t see how getting out was possible. It had been hours now, and any hope they had of the others finding them flickered out. Their helmets had been long since been lost during their battles through the Galra ship, so communicating with the others was a distant hope.

His eyes were drifting close, and before he knew it, he was coming to thanks to Keith harshly shaking his shoulder.

“Lance, please.”

Lance’s eyes snapped open at the desperation dripping from Keith’s tone. His eyes locked onto Keith’s wide, worried ones.

“Please. You have to hang on, okay?”

How much longer, Lance thought, but he nodded anyway, anything to ease Keith’s worries even if only slightly.

“There’s a crack across a few of the bars now,” Keith informed, moving back to the bars and gesturing towards them. “I’m almost there.”

Lance stared at the crack with narrow eyes. The gears in his mind were turning, and before he knew what was happening, he had his Bayard up and positioned towards the worn down cell bars. “Move,” he said, voice surprisingly firm.

Keith stepped out the way, and Lance took a shot. The cracked cell bars shattered, littering the floor with small, jagged pieces.

Lance dropped his Bayard, face scrunched up in pain as sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, crouching beside Lance.

“No,” Lance wheezed out. The gash was throbbing mercilessly, and the room was starting to sway. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Keith nodded and helped Lance to his feet. Standing, Lance realized, was a lot harder than sitting. The edges of his vision grew dark as the room tilted, and he would have fallen on his face if not for Keith snaking an arm around his waist.

“We’ll go slow,” Keith said as he led Lance out of the cell, but Lance knew they couldn’t go slow. Even though not a single Galra guard had come to check on them since they got locked up, Lance knew there would still be Galra patrolling the long corridors of the ship. They had to go fast, so he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about me right now. I’ll be fine, so we have to move quickly.” But, even as Lance said it, he wasn’t sure if he could move much faster than a snail crawl. Now that he was on his feet, the gash was stretched further, and blood was quickly dripping to the floor. The pain was unbearable, and he knew he was only a few minutes away from passing out.

But, he couldn’t. He had to stay awake to help Keith if need be, so he plastered on a smile to combat Keith’s frown. “I’ll be fine, Keith.”

“Are you sure?”

Lance nodded sharply, eyes bright and determined despite the pained grimace on his face.

Keith tilted his head in thought for a moment. “I could carry you.”

“Keith-”

“It would be faster and less strain on you.”

Lance stared hard at Keith. “But you wouldn’t be able to fight. You need your hands free, Keith.”

“I’ll carry you on my back. You can hold on, and that will leave my hands free.”

Lance glanced down at his wound. He knew that his chest being pressed against Keith’s back would hurt like hell, but he also knew how much faster they would be able to get out. He was in the middle of contemplating his pain tolerance when the entire ship jolted.

He and Keith snapped their attention towards a window, seeing the black, green, and yellow lions attacking the ship full force.

“Okay,” Lance said, and within seconds, he was hoisted up onto Keith’s back, wincing as Keith’s cold armor rubbed against his wound. He wrapped his legs around Keith’s waist but kept his hands on Keith’s shoulders in case he needed to quickly help.

Keith started at a run, slashing at a few Galra soldiers who tried to interfere with their escape, but for the most part, the journey towards the ship’s exit was uneventful at best, and Lance would have found that almost humorous if he weren’t dangerously close to losing consciousness.

Keith shoved the exit open, waving frantically at the black lion, and just moments later, all three lions were landed in front of them.

Shiro was the first out, but Pidge and Hunk were hot on his heels.

“What happened?” Shiro asked breathlessly as he reached Keith and Lance.

“We got captured,” Keith answered while helping Lance down to his feet. Lance swayed, and he had to grab onto Keith’s arm to keep from toppling over.

“Lance is hurt really bad,” Keith added, voice panicked, and Lance moaned lowly, hunching over as if that would ease the pain.

“Okay, Lance,” Shiro started, placing one hand on the small of Lance’s back. “Do you think you can hang on for a little while longer until we can get you in a pod?”

Lance nodded despite everything spinning even with his eyes squeezed shut. He heard shuffling noises then felt himself being lifted ever so gently, and he knew without opening his eyes that he was cradled in Hunk’s arms. He faintly heard Pidge mention something about calling to have a pod ready, but he was fading fast, so surrounding conversations were blurring together around him.

“Just hang on, buddy,” Hunk said, voice soft and reassuring, and Lance pressed his head against Hunk’s chest as he nodded off.


	5. Older Brother Shiro Snapping at Younger Brother Keith While Not Knowing that Keith is Sick

Shiro had too much to do in a very short amount of time. He was stressed to the max with class projects and was currently fighting with Skype at his kitchen table. He had a video meeting with Allura about a science project, and Skype wasn’t cooperating in the slightest. And to top it all off? His parents had left for a business trip, leaving him in charge of Keith, who was currently adamantly refusing to eat the dinner Shiro had quickly whipped up for him.

“Keith, please,” Shiro tried as he clicked away at his computer.

“I said I’m not hungry, Shiro!”

Shiro could feel whatever ounce of composure he had remaining fluttering away. He took in a few deep breaths before turning to face his brother. “You have to eat, Keith.” He said, voice low and firm.

Keith slammed his fork down beside his plate. “I can’t because I’m not hungry!”

“Then don’t eat!” Shiro snapped, ignoring Keith’s wince. He shot up from his chair and grabbed Keith’s plate and fork, dumping both into the sink with a loud clank. He gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white, breathing harshly. “Just go watch TV or something,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Fine,” Keith muttered, voice shaking, and Shiro listened as his younger brother shuffled out of the kitchen and into the living room. He heard the TV click on and listened as Keith lowered the volume significantly.

He moved back to his computer, clicking away until Allura’s face popped up on the screen in a small square. “Finally,” he breathed out, shooting his friend a sympathetic smile.

_“Have some trouble?”_

Shiro blushed as Allura laughed. He rubbed the back of his neck and shot her a sheepish grin. “Yeah, technology is not my forte.”

_“Well, you are here now, so let’s get to work, yeah?”_

Shiro nodded, and the two began to work for an hour until Shiro’s laptop blinked “low battery”. “One sec,” he told Allura as he got to his feet. “I need to get my charger.”

_“Okay.”_

Shiro moved out of the kitchen, passing by the living room as he started towards the stairs, only to freeze at a soft sniffling sound coming from the living room. He frowned, turning his attention towards the living room.

“Keith?” He called out as he moved into the living room, eyes falling onto the small, trembling mass hidden underneath two blankets. “Are you crying?”

“N-no,” Keith said, but the crack in his small voice had Shiro quickly moving until he was crouched in front of Keith.

“Hey, buddy,” he tried gently, eyes zeroing in on the tears streaming down Keith’s cheeks. He brushed Keith’s bangs away, frowning at the warmth. He pressed his palm against Keith’s forehead, and the heat was alarming. Suddenly, the gears in Shiro’s head started to spin and click into place.

“You’ve got a pretty nasty fever, bud,” he said, tone dripping in concern. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

“Since this morning,” Keith whispered against chattering teeth.

Shiro cursed quietly. He had made Keith go to school earlier despite Keith’s complaints of being tired, and now, Keith’s refusal to eat made clear sense.

“Keith, buddy, I’m so sorry,” he tried, but Keith shifted until he wasn’t facing Shiro.

“It doesn’t matter,” Keith muttered, and Shiro could tell that his younger brother was pouting just from the tone of his voice.

Shiro stood, biting his lip. He felt terrible for not noticing sooner, and he had snapped at Keith when his younger brother was simply feeling ill. He moved out of the room and back to the kitchen, briefly explaining to Allura what was going on. She had wished Keith well before logging off, and he shut his laptop before he grabbed an ibuprofen and a Gatorade.

Back in the living room, Keith was right where he left him, still lying on the couch under two blankets and shivering miserably. “Keith,” he called out softly, setting the supplies onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “Can you please look at me. I need you to take this medicine.”

“No,” Keith said, voice muffled by the blankets. “Just go away; you’re too busy anyway.”

Shiro’s heart wrenched tightly. He sat down on the couch beside Keith’s feet. “I’ve been a jerk, Keith, and you have every right to be mad at me. But, I really need you to take this medicine because your fever’s pretty bad.”

Keith sat up and shifted around, reaching for the pill and Gatorade. Shiro watched as Keith downed the pill with a few sips of Gatorade, but when Keith set the bottle down and went to lie back down away from Shiro, Shiro quickly grabbed him.

“Shiro!” Keith slapped his hands weakly against Shiro’s arms, but Shiro only tightened his grip.

“Nope,” Shiro started, pressing Keith’s smaller body against his chest. “We are going to cuddle, and you are going to have to deal with it.”

Keith huffed but snuggled against Shiro’s chest, leaning hard into his older brother’s body heat, which left Shiro staring with soft, sympathetic eyes.

“You really aren’t feeling well, huh?” Shiro asked, combing his fingers through Keith’s hair.

Keith shook his head, eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m really sorry, Keith.” Shiro said gently.

“It’s fine, I guess,” Keith muttered, already half-asleep.

Shiro smiled softly, mentally vowing to pay more attention to his younger brother as he watched Keith nod off to sleep.


	6. Lance Needs To Stop Reading WebMD

Keith had told him it was just a cold, but Lance was convinced he was dying. He had woken up that morning feeling off and decided to take to Google to figure out what was going on despite Keith’s annoyed protests. 

He was three hours deep in WebMD, and he was dying.

“Keith,” Lance whined, spinning around in his computer chair until he was facing Keith, who was lying on Lance’s bed and fiddling on his phone. “It’s thyroid cancer. I’m going to die.”

Keith sighed, eyes still locked onto his phone. “I told you it’s just a cold.”

“No,” Lance started, voice panicked. “You don’t understand, Keith. Neck pain is a symptom of thyroid cancer, and my neck hurts really bad!”

Keith stopped what he was reading on his phone to glance at Lance. “That’s because we fell asleep on the couch last night. My neck kinda hurts too.”

Lance threw his hands up, spinning back around until he was facing the computer. “What about coughing?” He asked, eyes darting across the screen. He spun around until he was facing Keith once more, throat tickling conveniently. He turned to cough into the crook of his elbow. “Coughing is a symptom!” He shouted despite his sore throat.

“Coughing is a symptom of a lot of things, Lance,” Keith said, shifting around until he feet were on the floor. He propped his elbows atop his knees, watching Lance with tired eyes.

“Keith,” Lance cried, drawing out the name. “Trouble swallowing too!”

“You aren’t having trouble swallowing,” Keith supplied, voice low and annoyed. “Your throat hurts, and that’s making it painful to swallow.”

Lance dropped his face into his hands. Why couldn’t Keith understand that he was clearly dying? They’ve been dating for almost a year, and it’s like Keith didn’t even care. “Keith,” he whispered desperately, voice muffled against his palms.

He suddenly felt fingers wrapping around his wrists and prying his hands away from his face. Keith was staring at him with reassuring eyes.

“Lance, I promise you aren’t dying,” Keith said, cupping Lance’s cheek. “I won’t let you.”

Lance still felt worried, with cancer symptoms bouncing around his mind, but Keith had a way of drawing him in and easing his worries. He leaned into Keith’s touch, placing his hand over Keith’s hand cupping his cheek. “You’ll never let me die?” He asked, voice quiet yet hopeful.

“Never,” Keith answered, and Lance smiled, hopping to his feet and wrapping his slender arms around Keith.

Keith pulled away after a few minutes and led Lance back to bed. “Even though you aren’t dying, you should still rest.”

Lance nodded, crawling under the covers. “Are you going to join me?” He asked, blinking tired eyes up at Keith.

“Just a moment,” Keith said, tapping away on his phone.

_[11:24 am] To Pidge: Is there a way you can make it to where Lance can’t see a website on his computer?_

_[11:24 am] From Pidge: What site?_

_[11:24 am] To Pidge: …WebMd…_

_[11:25 am] From Pidge: LMAO! Yeah, I’ll see what I can do._


	7. Pre-Kerberos Mission with Sick Shiro and Caretaker Matt

Preparations for the Kerberos Mission were underway. While they weren’t set to leave for another two weeks, Shiro, Matt and Dr. Holt were working day and night to ensure that everything was ready to go.

Shiro wasn’t sure if it was nerves about the mission or the fact that he hadn’t had more than eight hours of sleep in the last three days, but he was feeling incredibly run down. Everyone working on this mission had been complaining on and off about exhaustion, and while Shiro agreed with them, he found that he felt more than just exhaustion.

His stomach had been churning all day, and he felt incredibly cold despite the temperature regulated rooms they were working in. However, he opted to keep his ailments to himself because Matt and Dr. Holt had their own problems to deal with.

Halfway through sorting through digital maps for their course to Kerberos, Shiro’s stomach flipped violently, and he staggered out of his chair and to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to empty the contents of his stomach.

The pain in his stomach came in waves. Every time he thought he was done, another wave would hit full force that had him sitting up on shaking knees and heaving into the toilet. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in here, but he suddenly felt a hand on his trembling back.

“Shiro?”

Matt, Shiro briefly thought before heaving into the toilet once more. He wasn’t sure how much more he had left him– he hadn’t even eaten that much over the last few days. But luckily, his stomach started to settle after a few more moments, and he was able to reach up with a shaking hand and flush the toilet before dropping his cheek against the cool porcelain, tired eyes blinking up at Matt’s worried ones.

“Are you okay?”

Wrapping one arm around his stomach, Shiro nodded weakly. He was shaking violently, and he couldn’t tell if it was from cold or exertion or both. He was definitely tired but still freezing despite the heat rolling off his face.

Matt placed a hesitant palm across Shiro’s forehead, and Shiro leaned into the touch. His palm was cool, and it felt heavenly against his burning forehead.

Matt frowned, pulling his hand away. “I’m getting my dad.”

“Wait!” Shiro lifted his head and grabbed Matt’s wrist. “We don’t need to bother him. I’ll be fine! I just need to rest!” His throat was protesting his shouting, but he had to make sure that Matt listened. The last thing he wanted to do was bother Dr. Holt, who had his hands full with work.

“You’re clearly ill, Shiro.” Matt said, voice sporting an almost accusatory tone. “My dad will want to know.”

“But he’s busy,” Shiro countered. “And you guys have a video call with Katie later! I don’t want you guys to miss that!” His stomach started flipping once more, and he worked hard to control it, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Matt tilted his head as if in thought. “Fine,” he said after a few moments. “Do you think you’re done?” He gestured towards the toilet.

Shiro closed his eyes, pressing his hand gently against his stomach. The twisting feeling had subsided, leaving only a dull ache. Opening his eyes, he nodded weakly at Matt.

“Okay,” Matt said. He grabbed Shiro’s arm, and despite his smaller stature, he was able to pull Shiro to his feet. He wrapped a slender arm around Shiro’s waist. “Ready?”

Shiro, not wanting to burden Matt too much, closed his eyes in the hopes that the room would stop spinning so he could walk without too much support. When he opened his eyes, the room was still moving, but it was slow enough to where he could stagger to his room without putting too much weight on Matt.

Matt helped him get tucked into bed before brushing the back of his hand against Shiro’s cheek. “You’re very warm,” he whispered, brows furrowed in concern.

“I’ll be okay,” Shiro muttered, already drifting off.

Matt left the room, returning a few moments later with a cool, damp cloth. He smoothed it over Shiro’s flushed cheeks before folding it across Shiro’s forehead.

“Mmm, thank you,” Shiro said, blinking tiredly at Matt.

“Rest,” Matt said. “I’ll be here.”

Shiro frowned. “You don’t have to stay. I don’t want you to miss talking with Katie.”

Matt placed one of his hands atop Shiro’s. “Don’t worry about that. Just worry about getting better.”

Shiro wanted to protest, but he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He stared at Matt smiling softly, reassuringly at him, and he drifted off to sleep.


	8. Keith Having His Tonsils Removed and Lance Confessing His Love For Keith

Keith had never in his life imagined that at the age of eighteen, he would be laid up in bed after having his tonsils removed, and yet..

Lance of all people had convinced him to go to the doctor when he had been complaining of a sore throat for the third time in a month, and the doctor was quick to inform him that having a tonsillectomy had a high chance of remedying this.

Originally, Keith had declined; he didn’t have time for the two week recovery, but, after being woken up a few days later from his throat throbbing terribly, he decided enough was enough. He scheduled the appointment, and Lance insisted in taking him.

Once the procedure finished, the doctor had told Keith that his throat was going to hurt for a while. He told him to severely limit his talking and told him that he wouldn’t be able to eat solid foods for about two weeks. He was prescribed bed rest and ice cream, and despite Lance telling him that it would be amazing, Keith hated it.

The first two days were spent sleeping. The only time Keith got up was to drink some water or use the bathroom. He tried to stay awake when friends came to visit, but he was just so tired. The only one who stayed was Lance, who had taken to waiting on him despite his silent protests.

On the third day, Keith was awake and coherent, and Lance ecstatically ran out to buy ice cream.

Keith fiddled on his phone until Lance came pounding into his room only ten minutes later with three bags full of ice cream cartons.

“I didn’t know what flavor to get,” Lance started, gasping to catch his breath. “So I just got one of each!”

“La-”

Lance held his hand up. “No talking, Keith! You heard what the doctor said!” He opened one of the ice cream cartons and pulled a plastic spoon from one of the bags before sitting on the edge of Keith’s bed.

“Can I tell you something?” Lance asked, suddenly subdued, and Keith furrowed his brows and tilted his head in question.

“Well, we’ve been friends for ten years now,” Lance started, voice quiet. “And I guess I just needed to tell you this.”

Keith began to feel nervous, but he motioned for Lance to continue.

“The thing is,” Lance paused, taking a deep breath, “I'vehadacrushonyoufromthefirstdaywemet!”

Keith blinked slowly, mind trying to process the words that just tumbled out of Lance’s mouth. “La-” He started, only to be cut off by a spoon full of ice cream being shoved into his mouth. He grabbed the spoon just as Lance stood from his bed.

“You’re not supposed to talk, Keith!” Lance shouted before moving to press his head against the wall beside the door.

Keith thought for a second before grabbing his phone.

_[4:37 pm] To Loud Mouth Lance: I like you too._

He watched with bated breath as Lance opened the message from his own phone before spinning around quickly until he was facing Keith once more with wide, bright eyes.

“Really??” Lance questioned quickly, and Keith typed out a second message.

_[4:38 pm] To Loud Mouth Lance: Since the day we first met on the playground._

Lance read the message then lunged at Keith, knocking the ice cream carton off the bed in the process. “So we can date?” He asked, eyeing Keith with hopeful eyes.

Keith breathed out a light laugh and nodded, and Lance responded by wrapping his slender arms around him.

(And when Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge stopped by a few hours later to find the two cuddled together and sleeping, Shiro reluctantly dug through his wallet to hand Pidge the only twenty in his wallet.)


	9. "If You're Not Better By Tomorrow, We're Going to the Hospital" ft. Sick Lance

“If you’re not better by tomorrow, we’re going to the hospital.”

Lance stared at Shiro with wide, panicked eyes. He couldn’t go to the hospital. People never came back when they went to the hospital. His mom never came back when she went to the hospital.

“I can’t,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He knew he was getting bad. He thought he had just gotten a bad chest cold, but he kept getting worse despite being ordered to constant bed rest by his suite-mates. He couldn’t go five minutes without being wracked by painful coughing fits that had his lungs rattling in his chest, and he’s been sporting a fever over 102 degrees for two days now. He knew his friends were just worried, but he absolutely could not go to the hospital.

“Lance, buddy,” Hunk started, voice soft and reassuring. “I know you don’t like hospitals, but you’re really sick.”

“I’m,” Lance started, turning to cough into the crook of his arm. “I’m okay.”

“Lance, we are just worried about you,” Shiro said, dropping a hand against Lance’s trembling shoulder. “We wouldn’t make you go if we didn’t think you needed to.”

Lance could feel a pit of panic swelling within his stomach, and his chest felt incredibly tight. He was struggling to get air into his lungs, and he started shaking slightly. “I’ll get better,” he tried, desperate for his friends to believe him.

“That’s all we want,” Shiro said gently. “We hate seeing you like this.”

“I’ll get better,” Lance repeated. He had to get better. He would take the medicine Pidge left for him and sleep. And when he woke up tomorrow, he would be better. Enough was enough. He had to get better.

“Okay, buddy,” Shiro said, squeezing Lance’s shoulder. “We will see how you feel in the morning.”

“Night, Lance,” Hunk added with a soft smile.

Lance waved weakly as the two cut the lights out and left the room. As soon as he was sure no one else was coming in, he broke down, curling in on himself as tears slid down his cheeks. He didn’t want to go to the hospital– he couldn’t. He still had so much he wanted to do in his life. It wasn’t his time.

He spent the next fifteen minutes in a fit of crying and coughing until he exhausted himself. He just barely had the energy to swallow the pills Pidge left for him before he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

*****

Lance’s eyes flew open. He shifted his gaze to the clock, frowning at the red numbers reading 4:04 a.m. glowing at him. What in the fuck woke him up at this ungodly hour? He went to take a deep breath in and realized he couldn’t. Oh.

He shot upward into a sitting position, coughing and coughing and coughing. He couldn’t stop. His fingers curled tightly around his blanket as he struggled to breathe. His entire body felt hot– hotter than he’s ever felt. Sweat was sliding uncomfortably down the back of his neck, soaking the collar of his night shirt. Despite this, he was shaking hard. He couldn’t stop; he was shaking and coughing, and his eyes were watering. He needed help.

Suddenly, his door cracked open, revealing a very disheveled Pidge. “Lance?” She called out, voice thick with sleep. She flicked the lights on, and her eyes went wide. “Fuck.”

Lance clutched at his chest, wheezing and coughing. He shot Pidge a panicked look, and she nodded in reply before racing out of the room, coming back only moments later with Shiro, Hunk, and Keith hot on her heels.

Shiro was at his side in seconds, and Lance reached out, gripping the older boy’s arm tightly. “Can’t,” he rasped out, gesturing to his chest with his free hand.

Shiro nodded, acting fast. He scooped Lance up bridal style, and everyone else quickly followed him to the car.

“W-wait,” Lance tried, grabbing weakly at Shiro’s shirt. He could see everyone talking around him, but their voices sounded muffled. He felt like he was under water, sinking to the bottom of an ocean with waves rushing all around him. His vision was starting to blur. “N-no hospital,” he called out weakly before everything went black.

*****

Lance came to with a groan, and that was clearly a mistake because it instantly irritated his pained throat. He shot upwards, coughing harshly into his fist. He could feel hands rubbing at his back, and someone was talking to him. But, he couldn’t process the words. He was too focused on how badly his chest and throat hurt.

But, after what felt like years, he managed to catch his breath, slumping back against his pillows. He blinked tiredly at his friends staring at him with varying looks of concern, and then it hit him.

“F-fuck,” he breathed out, shooting upwards as his eyes darted wildly around the hospital room. His stomach started to twist into knots while his heart began to hammer against his chest. An uncomfortable feeling of heat began to prickle across his skin, and his breaths started to come out in short, choppy gasps.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Shiro tried, grabbing one of Lance’s hands in both of his. “Keith, go get the nurse.”

Lance watched as Keith raced out of the room. He wanted to go with him. Why did Keith get to leave? It wasn’t fair; he was going to die.

Keith returned moments later with a nurse, and Lance’s eyes went wide when she came towards him. “No,” he cried out, jerking away from her hands.

“It’s a panic attack,” Hunk supplied, and the nurse nodded, fiddling with the Lance’s IV.

Suddenly, Lance could feel his eyelids growing heavy. This was it; she was killing him. He tried desperately to fight it, but he couldn’t win. He fell back against the pillows as everything went dark.

*****

When Lance came to the second time, his chest and throat felt significantly better. Nowhere near how they should feel, but compared to how they’ve been feeling, he would take it. He slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light, and then he remembered.

“Lance?”

He snapped his gaze towards the quiet voice. Shiro was sitting in a chair beside his bed, grasping his hand tightly.

“Are you with me?”

Lance nodded quickly, not trusting his voice because his throat felt tight.

“I want you to listen to me, okay?”

Shiro’s voice was so calm and reassuring, and Lance found himself focusing solely on his older friend. He nodded once more.

“You’re in the hospital. You’ve got pneumonia. But, you’re going to be just fine, and we,” Shiro paused, gesturing towards Hunk, Pidge and Keith, “are all going to be right here with you the entire time.”

Lance shifted his gaze to each of his friends, who were all nodding and smiling at him. “I’m not going to die?” He asked weakly.

“Of course not,” Hunk said, easing himself down at the end of Lance’s hospital bed and patting Lance’s covered leg.

“Yeah, don’t be an idiot,” Pidge said with a light laugh before climbing onto Lance’s bed, curling herself around his trembling form.

“You’ll be fine,” Keith said from his place against the wall beside Lance’s bed.

Lance looked towards each of his friends with watering eyes. “Really?” He whispered, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Really.” Shiro confirmed, squeezing Lance’s hand.

Lance sniffed, tears freely sliding down his cheeks. He was still terrified; he still wanted to get out as soon as possible, but he had his friends here. His friends would make sure that he would get out. They would make sure that he would be okay.

“Okay,” Lance breathed out. “Thank you,” he added, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Anytime,” Shiro said with a gentle smile.


	10. Keith and Lance Trapped on an Elevator ft. Sick Lance

“Why are you still following me, Keith?” Lance spit out as the red paladin followed him into the elevator. He just wanted to be alone– he hadn’t been feeling well all day, and he just wanted to go back to his room to sleep whatever he had off. His head was throbbing, and his face was burning despite his bones feeling as if they were made of ice. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible to get sick in space, but he sure as hell felt sick. 

“I wanted to go rest in my room for a bit before I pick back up with training,” Keith answered, ignoring the bite to Lance’s tone. 

Lance groaned loudly, smashing the button to the third floor where all the rooms were located with more force than necessary. He was one hundred percent done with this day, and it was taking every ounce of what little will power he had remaining to not snap at Keith, who had pushed him to the brink during training. 

“What’s your problem, Lance?” Keith spit out, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. 

Lance wanted to reply; he wanted to tell Keith that he felt horrible, but he didn’t. “Nothing,” Lance opted to say just as the elevator started moving. 

“You’ve been too moody today,” Keith muttered, prompting Lance to roll his eyes in response. 

Lance stared hard at the numbers above the elevator door– it was only going up two floors, but it was taking longer than usual. He was just about to say something about it aloud when the lights flickered out and the elevator jolted to halt. 

Gripping the wall to keep from toppling over, Lance blinked rapidly, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He could feel a deep pit of panic settling deep within his stomach, but the faint sound of Keith’s calm breathing had him forcing his breaths to come out slow and casual. 

Keith stumbled forward until he reached the panel beside the door where all of the buttons were. 

“K-Keith?” Lance questioned, mentally cursing how shaky his voice sounded. 

“I’m going to see if the elevator comms still work.” Keith said while pressing certain buttons and calling out different names as he did. 

Lance slid to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them in an attempt to get warm as strong shivers started to wrack his body. He mentally kicked himself for leaving his jacket in the training room. 

“I think we are stuck for now,” Keith said after trying every button. “Power must be out in the whole castle.” 

“Great,” Lance replied weakly, pressing his forehead to his knees. He listened as Keith sat down against the other side of the wall. 

“I’m sure it won’t take Coran long to fix this. With Pidge and Hunk’s help, we should be out of here soon, and you will be free from me,” Keith said with a bite to his tone. 

Lance breathed out a shaky sigh. He knew he should say something to reassure Keith that he wasn’t actually mad at him. He was stuck in an elevator with him– the last thing they needed to do was fight. But, he found that he couldn’t muster up the energy. He was just so tired– so cold and so, very tired. 

The pair fell into a strained silence; however, it didn’t last long. Despite his best efforts, Lance just could not seem to get warm, and soon enough, his teeth began to chatter. He tried to stop– he really did, but it was as if he lost control of his body. He just couldn’t stop shivering. He felt terrible, and he just wanted to sleep– preferably in his own warm bed and not on a cold elevator floor. 

“Lance?” 

“W-what?” 

“Are you cold?” 

Obviously, Lance thought to himself. It was basically an ice box in this damn elevator. “Of c-course,” Lance said, trying to ignore how pitiful he sounded. “It’s f-freezing in here.” Lance heard Keith moving around, and seconds later, he felt a strong, warm hand on his arm. 

“No, it’s really not. It’s hot in here, actually.” 

Lance wanted to laugh, but his throat was too sore. Keith seemed like the type to run hot anyway, so Lance found that he shouldn’t be surprised that Keith was hot despite it being freezing. “Well, I’m c-cold,” he grumbled. He was about to turn his head to face away from Keith but stopped when Keith pressed the back of his hand against Lance’s forehead. 

“Shit.” 

Lance listened as Keith hopped to his feet and moved back to the door. “W-what?” 

“You’re burning up. I need to get you out of here.” 

Lance looked up, narrowing his eyes to try and see Keith through the darkness. “It’s f-fine. I’m not g-going to d-die.” God, he was so cold, and his head felt as if it were splitting in half. He briefly wondered who he pissed off to deserve this. 

“No, Lance. It’s so hot in here that I’m sweating.” 

Lance frowned, pressing the back of his hand against his own forehead. He could feel the heat, but it didn’t seem too concerning to him. If anything, it felt amazing against his freezing hands. 

“Keith,” Lance started, voice barely an audible rasp. “H-how are you going to get us out?” 

“I’m sorry for this,” Keith said right before he started banging his fists against the door, shouting at the top of his lungs for help. 

This went on for a solid three minutes, and Lance was about to beg Keith to stop before his head exploded, but his words got caught in his throat when someone responded from outside the elevator. 

_“Keith, are you alright?”_

Lance breathed out a sigh of relief– bless Shiro for always appearing at the right time. 

“Shiro, hey, we need to get out of here.” Keith said, voice frantic. 

_“We? Is Lance with you?”_

Lance craned his neck to cough harshly into the crook of his arm. Well, he thought to himself, that was new. 

“Yeah, Shiro, he’s really sick. How long til you guys can get us out of here?” 

_“Just a few more minutes, hopefully. What’s wrong with Lance?”_

Lance wanted to reply– he wanted to assure Shiro that he would be fine, but his chest tightened, and he turned his head, pressing his fist to his mouth as a strong coughing fit wracked his body. 

_“Shit, is that Lance? He sounds terrible!”_

“Yeah, and he’s got a really bad fever. It’s boiling in here, but he says he’s cold.” 

Lance struggled to catch his breath as his eyes welled with tears. “I,” he called out weakly in between coughs. “I’m fine.” 

“Shiro, please hurry,” Keith said before returning to Lance’s side. He grabbed Lance’s hand and pressed it against his chest. “Try to breathe with me, okay?” 

Lance focused on the rise and fall of his hand against Keith’s chest, and after a couple of minutes, he was able to breathe well enough. Now that breathing wasn’t an issue, Lance had time to focus on how hot he suddenly got– it felt as if fire was prickling against his skin. And, the floor beneath him felt as if it were tilting. Shit. He was going to pass out– he was going to die. He was going to keel over in an elevator with Mullet being the one person to witness his dying breath. The panic he had been pushing back was starting to take hold. 

“Lance? Hey, Lance? Stay with me, okay?” Keith cursed as he brushed his hand against Lance’s cheek. The heat was almost unbearable against his hand, and he could only imagine how Lance was feeling. 

Lance was just about to succumb to the darkness tugging at him when the lights flickered on, and the elevator jolted to life. 

“Thank fucking God,” Keith muttered, studying Lance now that he could see. 

Lance could cry from relief. The elevator moving was doing nothing to ease the dizziness that has taken hold of his head, but the sooner he got off this death trap, the better. 

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, revealing Shiro and Allura looking in with wide, worried eyes. Shiro stepped in first, rapidly closing the distance between he and Lance. 

Lance watched with blurred vision, and he briefly thought that Shiro looked like God approaching him. “See,” he whispered, voice too wrecked to talk any louder. “I’m fine.” 

Shiro breathed out a small laugh despite his furrowed brows. “Okay, buddy,” he paused, lifting Lance up bridal style. “We will make sure you are fine once we get you to Med Bay.” 

Lance wanted to ask why he couldn’t just go into a pod, but Shiro’s arms were so warm, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Kay,” he breathed out, putting all his trust into his friends as sleep took hold. 


	11. Klance on a Plane ft. Sick Keith

The trip to Disneyworld was sudden. Lance had seen an ad for a new attraction while he and Keith were watching TV, and his eyes had lit up in a way that left Keith stunned. And, before Keith had realized what was happening, he told Lance “Let’s go.”

The planning was a hasty two-week whirlwind, but somehow, the two had managed to secure plane tickets and park tickets. Lance had practically been buzzing with excitement as the day to leave crept closer and closer, and Keith had desperately wanted to match the excitement. But, he physically couldn’t.

He had woken up with a sore throat a few days before they were set to leave, and he pegged it on being tired from staying up late with Lance the night before, but as the day dragged on, he found himself coughing and sneezing more than he would like.

When the day to leave finally came, Keith checked his temperature while waiting for Lance to pick him up for the airport, not surprised to see the numbers indicating a low-grade fever. He downed some medicine just as Lance pulled up, hoping that it would combat the fever.

It wasn’t hard for Keith to hide his coughing and sneezing on the drive to the airport because Lance had insisted on blasting Disney movie tracks the whole way. Keith could barely hear himself think, so he wasn’t worried about Lance catching him stifling a sneeze or coughing into the crook of his elbow.

The bustling of the airport was doing nothing for Keith’s already throbbing head, but luckily, it didn’t take long until he and Lance were boarding the plane. He offered the window seat to Lance, knowing full and well that Lance wanted it without actually saying it, and Lance smashed a sloppy kiss to his cheek in response, only to freeze momentarily before pulling away with a frown.

“You’re a little warm, Keith. Are you feeling alright?”

Keith briefly panicked before reminding himself that he could sway this. “Your face would be a little warm too if I randomly attacked you with a kiss.”

Lance laughed as he flopped down into the window seat. “Aw, Keith!” Lance cooed, prompting Keith to roll his eyes. “Did I make you blush?”

Keith eased into the seat beside Lance, shoving his take-on bag under the seat. “Shut up,” he muttered, lips curling up into a small victory smile at the bellowing laugh that erupted right after.

The two got comfortable soon after the plane took off. Keith talked Lance into taking a nap, and, surprisingly, Lance agreed, stating that he could barely sleep all night because of excitement.

Keith watched as Lance popped his ear buds in and settled in, resting his head against the window. It only took a few minutes until Lance’s breathing evened out, and Keith figured he must have been more tired than he was letting on.

With Lance asleep, Keith pressed a tissue that he retrieved from his bag to his nose just as the tickling became too much. He sneezed once, twice, three times before rubbing the tissue gingerly at his nose. He then balled the tissue up, shoving it into his jacket pocket before massaging his temples. His headache was getting worse, and if the chills wracking his body were anything to go by, he’d say his fever was getting steadily worse.

He leaned back and wrapped his arms around his shivering body, closing his eyes with the hope that a little sleep would make him feel better.

However, an hour and a half later, and he was hopping up from his seat and briskly walking to the bathroom as a coughing fit threatened to claw its way up his throat. He shoved his way into the small bathroom, closing the door and turning on the tap to try and mask the noise. He started coughing hard, gripping at the edge of the sink with one hand with his other pressed against his mouth. His chest and throat hurt terribly, and for a moment, he thought he was going to throw up with how hard he was coughing, but he managed to catch his breath after what felt like years.

His eyes were watering, and he splashed some cool water on his pale, burning face before cupping some into his mouth. His throat felt raw and scratchy, and he made a mental note to order a glass of water as he exited the bathroom and moved back to his seat, only to freeze as his eyes fell onto Lance, who was sitting up straight with his ear buds abandoned and his eyes cast down.

“Lance?” He asked, head tilted in question.

“How long?”

Lance’s voice was low, sad, and Keith hesitantly sat down into his chair, placing one hand on Lance’s shoulder. “How long?” He pressed, prompting Lance to elaborate.

“How long have you been sick?”

Keith dropped his hand from Lance’s shoulder with a sigh. “For a few days now.”

Lance spun around until he was facing Keith. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He cried, and Keith could kick himself for making Lance upset.

“I didn’t want to ruin the trip,” Keith answered softy. He knew that reply wouldn’t make things better, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Lance looked hurt. “Did you think I would be mad if we had to reschedule the trip because you are sick?”

“No!” Keith shouted, turning to cough harshly into his shoulder. He heard a shushing sound from somewhere in front of them and lowered his voice. “No, but I didn’t want to make you wait any longer because you were so excited.”

“I care about you more than I care about a theme park, Keith. You should know this by now.”

There was frustration dripping from Lance’s tone, and Keith dropped his gaze to his hands. “I know,” he said, and when Lance cupped his chin, he lifted his gaze to lock eyes with Lance’s wide, worried ones.

He watched as Lance frowned before moving a hand to Keith’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” Lance said, concerned.

Keith nodded. Now that everything was out in the open, he just wanted to sleep, preferably for forever.

“You should have said something,” Lance pressed gently while sliding out of his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” Keith muttered, dropping his head against Lance’s shoulder. He breathed out a sigh as Lance draped his jacket over his shivering body. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the warmest he’s felt since he woke up that morning.

Lance wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulders, pulling Keith closer to him. “It’s fine. Just try to sleep, okay? When we get to the hotel, we’ll get medicine and get you to bed.”

Keith coughed weakly. “What about Disney?” He asked, lifting his head and blinking up at Lance with tired eyes.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Lance said, gently pushing Keith’s head back down against his shoulder. “Getting you healthy is the only thing that matters right now.”

Keith wanted to protest because he felt so guilty, but he was so tired and cold, and his head was pounding mercilessly. Lance, as if hearing his thoughts, whispered “please rest”, and Keith gave in, shutting his eyes and snuggling closer to Lance.


	12. Stomach Troubles ft. Sick Pidge

Pidge often woke up in a cold sweat after rather violent nightmares involving Matt; however, the nightmares were becoming pretty routine, so she was used to running on little to no sleep. Thankfully, Hunk had figured out a space alternative to coffee, so she relied on those to keep her going throughout the days when falling back to sleep seemed impossible after watching Matt die horrible, repeated deaths.

Just like any other night, Pidge was jolted from sleep, shooting up into a sitting position and gasping for breath as sweat clung to her skin. She willed her breathing to slow down before flinging her small legs off the bed, but when she went to stand, she found herself falling back against the bed as her stomach cramped violently.

Frowning, she placed a hesitant hand over her stomach. She knew it wasn’t her time of month because that had been two weeks ago, so the only logical explanations could be illness or food poisoning. Considering she’d been eating the same stuff since arriving, she figured food poisoning could be ruled out, leaving illness as the prime option.

While contemplating what to do, her stomach seemed to settle well enough to where she could stand without pain. She quirked her head in question but figured it best not to worry too much about it since the pain subsided.

However, a few hours later when the others finally woke up and gathered for breakfast, the pain came back in the form of twisting nausea that left her with zero appetite.

“Hey, Coran?” She started during breakfast.

“Yes, Pidge?”

“Hypothetically speaking, but do the healing pods heal illnesses as well or just physical injuries?” She kept her eyes on Coran, but based on the silence that followed, she knew that she caught the attention of everyone else.

“Why?” Shiro asked from across her, voice concerned.

Pidge swallowed the bile creeping up her throat. “We’ve been lucky this far having no one get sick, but I don’t think illness is something we can necessarily rule out.” It was a struggle to get each word out as her stomach flipped viciously.

“Illness is a complicated factor that the healing pods are not yet capable of remedying.”

Coran’s words had Pidge slumping her shoulders. Of course, she thought to herself, wrapping one arm around her stomach.

“Wait, really? What do we do if one of us gets like a space flu or something?”

For once, Pidge was incredibly thankful for Lance’s curiosity because she was confident now that if she opened her mouth to speak, she would vomit all over the table, and the consistent clinking sounds of forks scraping up space goo was not helping in the slightest.

“We have a room designated specifically for medical emergencies,” Coran replied, but Pidge was suddenly having trouble hearing him because she was too focused on the shivers coursing through her body despite feeling suddenly incredibly hot– boiling even. Adrenaline, her mind supplied, and she knew she didn’t have much time.

“Pidge?”

She snapped her head up, locking eyes with Shiro’s wide, worried ones.

“Are you okay? You look very pale.”

Her stomach lurched violently, and she only managed to briefly shake her head before bolting out of the dining room with one hand clamped over her mouth. The rooms were too far away, and she glanced around in a panic until she spotted a trash bin in the lounge area.

She staggered towards the trash bin with just enough time to heave into it, gagging out everything she’d eaten in the last two days. Both hands were gripping the edge of the bin tightly as her muscles trembled with adrenaline. She faintly heard shuffling from behind her before she felt cool hands brushing her hair from her face as she coughed and heaved into the bin for what felt like hours when logically she knew it’s only been about two minutes.

There were voices around her, behind her, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying until one strong, firm voice was at her side.

“Just get it out. You’ll feel better when you do.”

Pidge found that very doubtful just as her stomach lurched violently once more. She was convinced that she had contracted the mysterious space flu Lance mentioned and was going to die before she could find Matt and her father, and before she knew it, tears were streaming down her face as her stomach twisted and cramped painfully.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Katie. You’re going to be fine.”

The words were followed by a gentle hand rubbing up and down her back, and she relaxed under the touch just as her stomach settled.

“Done?”

She nodded and allowed Shiro to help her away from the trash bin and to the couch. She was still shaking hard and just wanted to curl up and sleep, but she was forced to stay upright on the couch as a glass of water was pressed against her lips.

“Small, slow sips, okay?”

Nodding once more, she welcomed the cool water down her burning throat, but it was cut off all too soon.

“What happened?”

“Have you not been feeling well?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Every voice was like a hammer drilling nails into her head, and she held up a weak, shaky hand to stop them. “I only woke up this morning feeling bad,” she muttered, sagging against the couch and crossing her arms over her trembling body.

Shiro pressed a cool palm to her forehead, and she unconsciously leaned into the touch.

“She’s warm,” he said lowly, eyes shifting to Coran. “What do we do?”

“We can take her to the medical facility and have her treated.”

“With what?” Lance asked rather loudly. “We’re humans; you guys aren’t.”

“I just need sleep,” Pidge called out weakly, already moving into a reclined position on the couch.

“You wouldn’t rather be in your own bed?” Shiro asked, but Pidge shook her head, eyelids drooping closed.

“Keith, Lance, can you guys go get some blankets and a pillow from her room?” Shiro asked, and the two boys nodded before moving towards the exit.

“I’m going to go with Coran and Allura to see what kind of medicine they have, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Pidge hummed in response and was just about to fall asleep when another voice interrupted.

“Is this about the nightmares?”

Pidge’s eyes snapped open, and she shot up into a sitting position, staring at Hunk with wide, panicked eyes.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but when you asked if I could figure out a way to make coffee, I started to piece stuff together.”

Pidge deflated as if all the energy left her body at once. She dropped her gaze to her hands. “They’ve been happening a lot, but I don’t think I’m sick because of them.”

Hunk moved until he was sitting on the couch beside her feet, and she brought her gaze up to meet his. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” She questioned, tilting her head slightly.

“It’s not my business to tell,” Hunk said. “I figured that you would talk about them when you were ready.” He paused, patting her leg. “But, you know we are all here for you.”

Pidge mouthed a silent ‘thank you’, and just moments later, Shiro came back in with Lance and Keith following right behind with stuff from her room.

“We brought blankets, pajamas, some weird book I found under your bed, and your pillow!”

Pidge smiled softly as Lance and Keith draped the blanket over her body and fluffed the pillow up behind her. “Thank you,” she said, earning grins from the two.

“You guys go and help Coran and Allura sort through their medicine,” Shiro instructed.

Pidge watched as the three boys moved to leave, catching Hunk’s eyes briefly and shooting him a quick nod before he left the room.

Shiro then helped her lie back down before he smoothed a cool, damp cloth across her forehead.

“Hey, Shiro?” She questioned softly, studying the way he looked at her with such sincere concern. “I need to talk to you about something whenever I’m feeling better.”

Shiro frowned, cupping his hand over hers. “Of course. You know I’m always here for you.”

Pidge smiled as her eyes drifted closed, and she knew before even falling asleep that she wouldn’t have any nightmares this time.


	13. An Argument with Lance and Keith that Results in Keith Ignoring Lance When He's Sick

“This isn’t a game, Lance!”

There was a fire in Keith’s eyes that Lance matched with his own piecing glare. “I’m very aware of that, Keith!” He shouted back, arms flailing about in exasperation.

“Oh, really?” Keith questioned through a biting laugh. “Because you frolicking around through a bunch of fucking space flowers none of us know a single thing about sure as hell says otherwise!”

Lance’s blood was boiling. “They were fucking flowers, Keith! God, what’s the big deal?”

“Are you serious?” Keith spit out, crossing his arms. “We don’t know how our bodies react to space plants, Lance! We can’t exactly form Voltron and save the fucking universe if you get yourself killed!”

Despite his best efforts, Lance couldn’t keep his face from falling at Keith’s words. Of course Keith only cared about Voltron.

“Oh, don’t go crying about this, Lance.”

The annoyance dripping from Keith’s tone was enough. “Fuck you, Keith,” he hissed out, eyes narrowed dangerously. He turned on his heel and stormed towards the door to leave the room, not missing the grumbled “fucking blue paladin” from Keith as he shoved the door open.

*****

Lance was jolted from sleep by a sharp, stabbing pain in his stomach, but when he tried to investigate with his hand, he found that he couldn’t lift his arm. A few moments of wiggling told him that he couldn’t move his entire body; it felt as if there was a giant weight crushing him to the bed.

Panic shot through his body as sweat rolled down his temples. His stomach was lurching violently, and his heart was hammering against his chest fast enough to have him gasping for breath. His mind said “move!”, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate- they couldn’t cooperate. The pressure was too much, and Lance’s throat was beginning to tighten.

He opened his mouth to call for help, but the only sound that came out was a burning wheeze that left him coughing harshly until his eyes watered. Panic was seeping into every crevice of his body now. Each cough rattled his lungs painfully, and the the pain within his stomach was only intensifying.

He had to move; he didn’t have a choice. For all he knew, he could be dying, so he had to move. He closed his eyes, counted to three, then thrust himself to the left, rolling off the bed and collapsing on the floor.

Pain from the impact coursed through his body but was easily ignored now that his limbs were functioning. With a substantial amount of effort, he managed to climb to his feet, knees trembling violently with each step towards the door.

He pulled the door open, and one glance down the hall told him Keith’s room was the closest. With one hand pressed against the wall for support and the other arm wrapped around his stomach, Lance began shuffling slowly towards Keith’s room, limbs burning with each, unsteady step.

When he reached Keith’s door, he knocked weakly, energy depleting rapidly from his body. “Keith,” he tried, voice just a low rasp, but it was enough.

“Go away, Lance. I’m not apologizing.”

Lance sunk to his knees, arm still wrapped tightly around his stomach. He rapped his knuckles against the door once more, hand dropping to the floor at the “I said go away!” that followed.

The pain in his stomach was becoming unbearable. He curled up onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest as shivers began to course through him in long, painful waves.

Darkness crept at the edges of his vision and he gave in, only to jerk awake what felt like mere moments later from a coughing fit clawing its way up his throat like jagged glass. He clutched weakly at his neck as each cough left his lungs crackling and struggling against the pressure in his chest.

The panic from before was heightening with each harsh cough. He couldn’t breathe; he just kept coughing and coughing until his stomach lurched, and he pushed himself up with just enough time to heave onto the floor, burning bile tearing up his throat and splashing against the dark tiles.

“Lance?”

Lance didn’t hear the door open behind him over his retching.

“Fuck, Lance!”

He could barely feel the hands on his back because of his tight, convulsing muscles working in overdrive as wave after wave of nausea washed over his body.

“Lance, what’s going on?”

He knew Keith was talking, but each word sounded muffled. He only shook his head in response, hoping that it was enough to tell Keith he didn’t know what was going on at all.

“Shiro!”

That word came through loud and clear, and Lance could hear the panic and desperation dripping from Keith’s tone. And, moments later, three pairs of feet were pounding towards him.

“What’s wrong?”

There were hands cupping his face and prompting him to look up, and he struggled to get his eyes to focus on Shiro’s wide, worried ones.

“I don’t know? I- he just,” Keith shook with fear. “I came out here, and he was just like this!”

Lance’s arms began to tremble. He was finding it difficult to hold himself up, and Shiro’s face began to double and triple in front of his eyes.

“He’s burning,” Shiro muttered, forehead creased in concern.

“I’m going to tell Coran and Allura,” Pidge said breathlessly before turning on her heel and bolting down the hall.

Everyone’s words were becoming muffled once more as Lance tried to blink away the dizziness coating his vision. The shivers from before were replaced with a prickling heat seeping out from his bones and covering his skin. His chest was heaving, desperately gulping for air that would never fully reach his lungs, and before he knew what he was happening, he was being lifted, crying out in pain as his stomach cramped violently with the sudden movement.

“It’s going to be okay, Lance.”

The coolness from Shiro’s metal arm seeped past Lance’s night clothes to his burning skin, and he shivered lightly at the contact. He squeezed his eyes shut, only to open them moments later when he was being placed down onto his bed.

Panicked voices talking all at once sounded over him, and he wanted to reply, but he couldn’t get a solid breath in. He immediately curled onto his side and willed sleep to take him away.

*****

_“You said WHAT to him?!”_

Lance groaned at the sound, but after his mind took a few seconds to process the voice, he snapped his eyes open and frowned. That was Hunk’s angry voice coming from outside his room, and Hunk rarely got angry.

_“Why would you say that?”_

Shiro’s voice followed, disappointment evident in his tone, and that was all Lance needed to realize the two were talking to Keith. The argument from before flashed across his mind, and he sighed.

_“I was just mad! I didn’t mean it like that!”_

Keith sounded… upset? Lance figured the red paladin would be stubborn and fuming, but there was pained regret coloring his tone.

_“Lance could have DIED because of you, Keith!”_

The crack in Hunk’s voice made Lance’s heart wrench tightly. He wanted to go out- to assure the three that he was fine even though he felt anything but with his head pounding mercilessly and his stomach cramping sharply. He just didn’t want the three to fight over him.

_“I know!”_

Lance’s eyes went wide at Keith’s cry. He had to get up, but when he moved to get out of bed, his door opened, revealing a teary-eyed Keith as Shiro and Hunk’s footsteps echoed down the hall.

“Lance! You’re awake!”

Words were Lance’s forte, but for the first time, he was speechless. He watched with furrowed brows as Keith moved quickly to sit on the edge of his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

There was relief laced within Keith’s tone, and Lance could only stare in response.

“Hunk, Pidge, and Coran are going to go back to the planet to investigate the flowers you came in contact with,” Keith supplied after a few moments of silence. “They think that’s what’s making you so sick.”

Lance nodded dumbly, eyes unable to pull away from the tears clinging to the corners of Keith’s eyes.

“Listen,” Keith started, filling the silence once more with a shaking voice. “You know, god, the argument was stupid, okay? I said some stupid things, but you’ve gotta know that I was only angry because I was worried about you.”

Lance was having trouble processing the words.

“I fucked up, okay? I care about you more than Voltron, even if I don’t show it.”

Lance opened his mouth but couldn’t get his lips to form words. He stared wide-eyed at Keith, and before he knew what was happening, he was being pulled into Keith’s arms.

“God, I’m so sorry, Lance. I should have opened the door when you knocked. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m an asshole.”

Keith’s arms were wrapped tightly around his trembling body, and his voice vibrated against his chest.

After a few moments, Lance lifted his heavy arms, returning the hug. He pressed his face against Keith’s neck. “I know,” he breathed out, and the arms around him tightened.

“You’re going to feel sick until they can craft an antibiotic, but I’m going to be right here taking care of you the entire time, okay?”

Lance nodded against Keith’s neck as a soft smile played at the corner of his lips. He knew things with Keith would be strained for a while, but right at this second, he knew everything was going to be okay.


	14. Best Bros Lance and Hunk in a Mall ft. Sick Lance Trying to Hide Being Sick

Lance had agreed to go to the mall with Hunk because, at the time, he had been feeling fine. But when the two arrived and started shopping, his health bounced around as quickly as the two browsed through stores. One minute he was fine; the next he was glancing around for the closest bathroom as a wave of heat prickled over his body and his stomach flipped dangerously.

It was incredibly inconsistent, but he was doing his best to hide it, with only one misstep where he had paled significantly in a clothing store after a rather violent wave of nausea washed over him. Hunk had asked if he was okay, and he had swallowed hard before waving away Hunk’s concern as his energy surfaced once more.

After about two hours, the two decided to swing by their favorite smoothie cart to allow their arms, carrying multiple bags, a rest.

Lance was normally incredibly eager to get his hands on a large blueberry smoothie, but as soon as he said his order to the woman manning the cart, his stomach started to churn violently. Heat was washing over him, but he could feel soft tremors coursing through his body. He was thankful for the sound of Hunk tapping away on his phone behind him because that told him that his friend wasn’t watching him.

“Sir?”

Lance snapped his attention towards the woman running the cart, who was holding his smoothie out to him with a frown. “Sorry,” he muttered, taking the cup and starting towards a table placed close to a fountain.

He hoped that sitting down would ease the cramping in his stomach, and he all but collapsed into the chair, dropping his shopping bags loudly to the floor. But, he soon found out how wrong he was. If anything, sitting was only making his stomach hurt worse, but he shot Hunk a shaky smile as his friend sat down across from him.

Lance sipped his smoothie slowly as Hunk chattered about what he and Pidge were working on for their science project, but after a while, Hunk’s words became but a faint mutter as Lance’s entire focus went towards his stomach.

With each nauseous flip of his stomach, he was growing hotter. He could feel sweat slide down the back of his neck, and his muscles were burning from the effort put forth to keep from trembling in front of Hunk.

Everything was suddenly becoming too hot and too loud, and Lance could physically feel each small sip of the smoothie threatening to come back up. He shot to his feet.

“Lance?”

“Sorry,” Lance said through a forced laugh. “My stomach.” His eyes were already darting around for a bathroom, and when he spotted one relatively close by, he started to move. “Hang on one sec, okay?” He said over his shoulder as he walked quickly on trembling legs to the bathroom.

Lance could thank every single god when he found the bathroom empty, but he held back on bursting into a stall because his stomach had settled some. It still hurt badly, but he didn’t feel an immediate threat of vomiting at the moment. 

Instead, he parked himself in front of a sink and splashed cold water over his burning face. The coolness brought little to no relief for his stomach was beginning to cramp violently again. He spared a glance towards an empty stall, but still, he didn’t feel he was going to vomit right that second.

He gripped the edges of the sink and contemplated sticking his entire head under the faucet to ward of the stifling heat when he heard someone walk up to him.

“Lance?”

There was caution and concern coloring Hunk’s tone. Lance stared at his pale face dripping with water in the mirror before turning to meet Hunk’s eyes.

Hunk gasped quietly, lips already curled down into a frown. “You look terrible.”

Lance was eternally grateful for Hunk keeping his voice soft because his head was beginning to throb, and it was doing nothing for his churning stomach. He nodded in response and watched as Hunk set the drinks and bags down before closing what little distance was left between them. 

Lance welcomed the gentle hand on his back, and it took all of his effort to not collapse into Hunk’s arms.

“Have you thrown up?”

Lance took in a few shaky breaths before shaking his head. “I’ve been feeling on and off bad since we got here, and it just got to be too much.” When Hunk hummed in agreement, Lance’s forehead creased in confusion.

Hunk smiled gently at him. “I was a little hesitant at first when you got really pale while looking at shirts in the Blue Paladin, but you really tipped me off when you were barely drinking your smoothie.”

Lance could only nod in response. Just the mere mention of his smoothie left him trembling. Luckily, it didn’t take Hunk long to pick up on that because he watched Hunk move to throw the two drinks away before gathering all of their shopping bags.

“If you haven’t been sick by now, it’s probably best to go home.”

Lance watched as Hunk moved all the bags to one arm, and his face softened once Hunk motioned for him to come over with his free arm. Before he knew it, he was leaning hard against Hunk’s side with a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Let’s go home, buddy. Some sleep will do you good.”

Lance nodded, and with Hunk’s steady support keeping him upright, the two started towards the mall’s exit. 


	15. Klance ft. Sick Lance Not Even Realizing That's He's Actually Sick

Lance had people telling him all week “you sound like you got yourself a nasty cold”, yet he didn’t feel it. Sure he had been constantly stifling sneezes at work, and maybe his voice was a little raspy thanks to coughing at all hours of the night, but he felt fine. More than fine, really. He felt great despite the persisting symptoms, so when Keith texted and asked for a date night on Friday, he happily agreed.

Because of their work schedules, he hadn’t seen Keith since Sunday, and he was greatly missing that semi-permanent scowl and that distinguished mullet that he had grown to love over the years.

When Friday finally rolled around, Lance was a little disappointed to find that his symptoms seemed to be heightened, but still, he felt physically fine. Nevertheless, he shoved a pack of tissues into his sweater pocket just as Keith texted that he was outside.

*****

The crisp fall air was seeping in through Lance’s sweater, but he didn’t mind while having Keith’s warm body pressed close to his as they walked through a park framed with trees colored in reds and golds.

It was a simple date, but there was something intimate within the simplicity of walking hand-in-hand on a shaded path just as the sun dipped below the horizon. However, Lance would have liked it much more if he weren’t pestering Keith with his coughing and sneezing.

“Are you sick?”

Lance’s steps briefly faltered at Keith’s question, but he was quick to recover, matching Keith’s slow steady steps once more. He turned his face away from Keith to stifle a sneeze into the crook of his elbow.

“No,” Lance said, sniffling. He pulled one of the many crumpled tissues from his pocket and rubbed it gently against his nose.

“Having a little trouble believing that right now, Lance.”

The slight annoyance tinged within Keith’s tone had Lance huffing out a laugh as his lips curled up into a wide smile. “I’m fine, Keith. Just some coughing and sneezing, but I feel fine.”

Keith seemed hesitant to accept this, but Lance gave his hand a tight, reassuring squeeze. After a few moments, he felt his shoulder relaxing some as Keith turned his attention back towards the path ahead of them.

Twenty minutes passed within relative silence, with the only sounds coming from the crunching of leaves beneath their boots and Lance’s continuous coughing and sneezing. Lance knew the symptoms were becoming more frequent as he was having to turn away from Keith every few seconds to cough into his first or whip a tissue out to sneeze, but he didn’t want the night to end. He wanted to spend every waking second with this boy that had managed to capture his heart since the first day he had laid eyes on him.

Just as the two rounded a corner, Lance stopped suddenly, quickly pressing a tissue to his nose with just enough time to sneeze once, twice, three times. He sniffled, rubbing at his nose while only vaguely aware of Keith watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Lance. Seriously. You’ve got to be sick.” There was firm annoyance laced within Keith’s tone now, and Lance sighed.

“I’m really not,” he answered, voice half-muffled by the tissue covering his nose and mouth. “It’s just-” His words trailed off the tip of his tongue as Keith suddenly pressed a cool palm to his forehead.

Keith frowned. “You’re burning up.”

Lance’s brows creased in confusion as he breathed out a low, nervous laugh. He pressed a hand against his own forehead, attempting to gauge the temperature for himself.

“I’m okay,” he tried, but Keith had already shrugged out of his jacket and was draping over Lance’s shoulders.

“Really, Keith. I’m fine,” he argued, pushing past the rasp in his voice to ensure confidence as Keith all but dragged him back to the car.

“This is unnecessary,” he pressed as Keith practically shoved him into the passenger seat. “You’re being dramatic. I’m totally fine.”

“You aren’t,” was all Keith said before shutting the door and moving towards the driver’s side.

Lance shot Keith a pout as he climbed into his seat and jammed his keys into the ignition. “You didn’t have to cut the date short.”

Keith’s grip around the wheel tightened. “You have a fever, Lance. I’m not going to parade you around outside in the cold while you’re sick.”

“But I’m not!”

“You are!”

Lance winced at Keith’s angered tone, and he sunk back into his seat, and soon after, the car fell silent, with tension hovering between the two that could be sliced with a knife.

Keith’s shoulders were raised and tense, and he had a white-knuckled grip on the wheel as he jerked around traffic at speeds that were most likely illegal, but Lance found that he couldn’t care anymore because his bones suddenly felt like ice that the fire from his face could not melt. His temples were beginning to throb mercilessly just as strong shivers began to course through his body, and the realization that was actually sick hit him all at once.

“Oh.”

Keith glanced over, anger washing away to concern. “Lance?”

Lance drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs in an attempt to get warm. He reached out with a trembling hand to adjust the dial of the heat. “I don’t f-feel well,” he muttered, teeth clacking together loudly.

Keith cursed under his breath before slamming his foot down harder onto the gas pedal, and any other day, Lance would have scolded him for the recklessness, but he couldn’t find the energy to care. He felt as if he hadn’t slept all week. He wanted to sleep now, but every time he closed his eyes, harsh coughs would tear up his throat and leave him doubled over and gasping for breath.

Somewhere in the middle of a rather violent coughing fit, the car stopped. He wasn’t aware what was happening, but only moments later, he felt a strong hand rubbing gently on his back.

“Just breathe, Lance.”

Keith’s voice was a beacon piercing through the rattling coughs, and he nodded, forcing his lungs to inhale and exhale until he could breathe again.

“Jesus, Lance. Why didn’t you say you were sick?”

There was nothing but concern in Keith’s tone now, but Lance shook his head. “I wasn’t. I swear, Keith. I felt fine.” Each word felt like glass rubbing against his throat, but he wanted Keith to understand.

Keith opted not to reply as he helped Lance out of the car, and when Lance swayed as soon as his boots hit the pavement, Keith wrapped a steady arm around his shoulders.

“You’re mad,” Lance said weakly as the two started towards the elevator. Keith’s silence was unnerving, and it was getting the best of him.

“Not mad. Worried.”

Keith’s tone was clipped, but there was no hostility in it. However, Lance wasn’t convinced. “I’m sorry,” he tried, voice shaky.

Keith remained silent all the way up the elevator and into his apartment, and Lance’s nerves were only heightening with each second that went by with no comment from Keith.

“I’m really sorry,” he pressed as Keith helped him change and get into bed, but it wasn’t until he was already lying down and half-asleep that Keith finally replied.

“You’re an idiot.”

Lance wanted to frown at the statement, but the cool, damp cloth being pressed to his forehead left him sighing in relief. “That’s rude,” he breathed out.

“Just because you don’t feel sick doesn’t mean you aren’t, Lance. You need to learn when your body is telling you to rest.”

There were certain spots within Lance’s mind that were telling him to fight back because he had been fine! But, sleep was tugging at all corners, and besides, Keith didn’t look mad, only worried.

“Kay,” he mumbled, eyes dropping closed. “I’ll try to listen,” he added, only half-awake at this point, and he just managed to catch Keith telling him to rest before everything went dark.


	16. Sick Pidge ft. Some Unwilling to Believe Paladins

By now, the paladins had grown accustomed to being sick while in space. Getting colds was a norm among the five, so when Pidge woke up with a runny nose and a throbbing head, she didn’t think anything of it.

The five were quick to learn that the pods were useless against human illnesses, so they remedied the colds with rest and a space equivalent to chicken noodle soup courtesy of Hunk.

Pidge spent the day in bed reading and indulging in the warm soup Hunk served her. With the Galra missing in action right now, the paladins were left to simply train and lounge around while Coran and Allura tried to locate the Galra’s whereabouts. So, Pidge wasn’t missing much by taking time to let her body heal.

She opted to go to bed earlier than usual, hoping that added sleep would fully kick the cold, but when she woke up the next morning drenched in sweat but shaking like a leaf, she thought differently.

She staggered out of her room, still in her night clothes, and made her way to breakfast. It was a struggle; the hallway lights were only heightening the headache flaring behind her eyes, and the tiled floors looked as if they were moving in slow waves. She walked with one hand against the wall until loud voices filled the silence.

“And for breakfast today? More food goo!”

“What did you expect, Lance? Pancakes?”

“Really, Keith. Did you have to mention pancakes right now?”

Pidge pushed the door open, wincing at the loud voices.

“Pidge! You are up late today! Are you feeling quite well now?”

Coran’s voice grated harshly against her ears, and she flopped down hard into her seat, shaking her head weakly.

“Pidge, you can’t get out of training forever.”

Pidge snapped her gaze towards Shiro, eyes wide with disbelief. “Shiro, I’m not-”

“It’s fine, Pidge. I know you aren’t the biggest fan of training, so you can have one more day off if you want. But you really need to start training with us more.”

Pidge could feel all eyes boring into her, and before she knew it, she was out of seat and stomping towards the door despite her muscles protesting the harsh movements. The thought of making the long trek back to her room made her sick to her stomach, so she opted for the large couch in the lounge area instead.

The cushions were hard, but she found that she could care less. She rolled until she was facing the back of the couch, and she drew her knees tightly to her chest as long shivers coursed through her small body. She squeezed her eyes shut against the lights and waited for sleep to take hold.

*****

“She’s got to train eventually.”

Keith’s hushed voice was still enough to pull Pidge from sleep.

“How about you guys back off Pidge some, yeah?”

Hunk’s voice was louder, firmer, and based on the silence that followed, the other paladins agreed to his request. Pidge listened to the echoing footsteps that were most likely headed to the training deck.

She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but it felt like only seconds. She didn’t feel any better, either. If anything, she felt worse. The pain in her head seemed to spread and shoot across her muscles. Every part of her body was throbbing, and her constant shivering was doing nothing to alleviate the pain.

She whimpered quietly, squeezing her eyes shit once more. Anything to get rid of the pain.

*****

“Okay, Pidge! It’s time to get… Pidge?”

Pidge, pulled from sleep once more, wished that Lance would go away, but she could hear his soft footfalls growing closer.

“Hey, are you okay?”

If she didn’t feel that death were only moments away, she would have laughed bitterly at the question. She opted, instead, to shake her head. She figured she wouldn’t be able to get any words out with how badly her teeth were chattering anyway.

“Oh.” Lance paused. “Oh!” Louder this time, and Pidge visibly winced at the sound. She was about to ask Lance to keep his voice down when he turned and shouted “Shiro!” at the top of his lungs.

Pidge moaned, pressing her face against the back of the couch just as three pairs of footsteps pounced into the room.

“Lance? What’s wrong?” Shiro asked breathlessly.

“I think Pidge is actually really sick!”

There was loud concern laced within Lance’s tone, and Pidge wanted nothing more than for everyone to be quiet. She wanted to be left alone; however, a hand dropped onto her shoulder only moments later.

“Pidge? Can you look at me?”

Pidge briefly contemplated the results that would stem from declining before slowly rolling over until she was facing Shiro, and based on the soft gasps that followed, she’d say she looked close to how she felt.

Shiro pressed a palm to her forehead only to pull it away quickly much to Pidge’s displeasure.

Shiro looked over his shoulder at the other three. “She’s burning up.”

Pidge frowned at this. “Freezing,” she countered weakly, wrapping her arms tightly around her slender frame. She met Shiro’s wide, worried eyes when he turned his attention back to her.

“That’s the fever,” Shiro muttered, somewhat distracted as his eyes swept over her body.

“Flu?” Hunk asked, crouching beside Shiro to get a better look at Pidge.

Pidge watched the two study her, and even though they weren’t close, she knew Lance and Keith were watching from behind. She didn’t want so much attention on her; she was angry that they didn’t believe her before, and she wanted them to go away so she could sleep.

“Probably,” Shiro answered, and when he brushed Pidge’s hair back with his mechanical arm, Pidge shivered harder at the contact.

“I’ll go make more soup,” Hunk announced, and even though the thought of food made her nauseous, Pidge appreciated the gesture.

“Go help him,” Shiro said, and shortly after, Lance and Keith exited the room, leaving Shiro and Pidge alone.

Pidge pushed up on shaking arms until she was in a sitting position. She ignored Shiro’s frown as she moved to stand, but as soon as she put pressure on her feet, he knees buckled, and she would have went crashing to the floor if it weren’t for Shiro’s fast reflexes.

“Woah, Pidge! Take it easy! You need rest!”

Pidge breathed out a low laugh as she blinked away the dizziness clouding her vision. “Just go away, Shiro,” she managed, pushing away from him, but when she attempted to start towards the door, the room tilted drastically, and she found herself moving with it, only to fall hard against a warm, strong body.

“Katie, please.”

Pidge’s anger crumbled away in small pieces. “You thought I was faking this morning,” she said, face pressed into Shiro’s chest.

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

The guilt dripping from Shiro’s tone was the knife that slashed away the rest of Pidge’s anger, leaving her feeling sick and vulnerable. She fisted her hand into Shiro’s shirt, and seconds later, Shiro was lifting her, cradling her against his chest.

“I’m going to get you to bed and take care of you, okay?”

The idea sounded pretty damn amazing, but one small problem was pressing forward in her mind. “You can’t. You’ll get sick, then everyone else will get sick, leaving us vulnerable if the Galra attack.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that, okay?”

The confidence laced within Shiro’s tone left Pidge nodding absently in agreement. She leaned harder against Shiro’s chest, leeching the warm he radiated as he started towards her room.


	17. Klance ft. Lance with an Infected Cut

Keith was a little shocked to say the least. He hadn’t expected Lance to say yes to sparring together when he asked at breakfast, but Lance had seemed almost flattered when Keith asked.

The two were now walking towards the training deck, and Keith was absently chattering about a new swing kick he perfected when a loud thud interrupted this words.

He craned his neck to glance over his shoulder and found Lance lying flat on his back with his eyes closed. Cursing under his breath, Keith closed the short distance between the two and dropped to his knees beside Lance.

Lance’s face was scrunched up, clearly visually showing pain, but, Keith thought, pain from where? There was a thin sheen of sweat coating Lance’s forehead, and Keith hesitantly pressed his palm to it, stomach dropping at the heat coating his palm.

Panic and confusion, Keith found, were not a good mix. His stomach was in knots, and he was beginning to shake as his heart hammered hard against his chest. He was at a loss because Lance had been fine, albeit a little tired. But, they were all still tired from a sudden Galra battle a few days ago.

But, they had all come out of that battle unscathed, didn’t they?

Keith absently bit down on his lower lip as his eyes ran up and down Lance’s body. The boy appeared to be half-conscious, and Keith was so afraid and just wanted Lance to wake up. He gripped Lance’s shoulders to try and shake him awake, only to quickly pull his hands away as Lance hissed in pain and jerked away from the touch.

Frowning, Keith lightly pressed down on Lance’s left shoulder, but nothing happened. His eyes shifted to the right shoulder, and when he gently applied pressure, Lance weakly cried out and tried to move away.

With as much caution as he could manage with his trembling hands, Keith carefully tugged at Lance’s shirt collar above the right shoulder to get a better look.

“Fuck.” Keith’s eyes went wide and his heart shot up his throat. Lance had a nasty, deep cut stretching from his collar bone to his right shoulder. Around the cut, Lance’s normally tan skin was a deep red, and the cut itself was an off-yellow and visibly swollen.

Keith ghosted his hand above the gash, frown deepening at the heat radiating from it. “Fuck,” he cursed once more, already looking around as he planned his next action.

He dropped his attention back on Lance, noting that the brunet was trembling and panting hard. “Lance?” He tried, gently patting Lance’s cheek, and Lance’s eyes surprisingly snapped wide open at the soft touch.

Keith jerked his hand away. “Shit, Lance? You with me?” His heart was going a mile a minute, but he was desperately trying to keep his cool for Lance’s sake.

“I- what?”

The fear coating Lance’s voice did nothing to ease the worry flaring across Keith’s chest. “Okay, you’re okay,” he tried when Lance shot him a panicked look. “You’ve… Your shoulder,” he gestured wildly to Lance’s right shoulder just as sensible words became lost in the flurry of thoughts bouncing around him mind.

Lance carefully pressed a hand against his right shoulder, only to loudly cry out and drop his hand moments later. “It wasn’t that bad before,” he said, voice shaking, and Keith frowned at the words, a scold already on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself.

Lance looked on the verge of a break down, and Keith realized berating the brunet for not saying anything would help nothing right now.

“It’s going to be fine,” Keith tried to reassure even though he wasn’t so sure himself. The wound looked horrible, and Lance was boiling. He wasn’t the best when it came to infections, but this was alarmingly obvious.

“Pods,” Lance managed out, and Keith nodded quickly. He hopped to his feet, but when Lance didn’t follow suit, he looked down with a frown.

“Can you get up?” He questioned, voice quiet and afraid.

Lance slowly sat up into a sitting position, wincing the whole while, but when he moved to stand, he staggered, and Keith was crouched back down in front of him in seconds, one hand placed firmly on Lance’s chest.

“Everything’s spinning,” Lance muttered, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Okay,” Keith said, doing his best to adopt a calm, authoritative tone despite feeling anything but. “Okay,” he repeated. He shifted around, wrapped one arm around Lance’s shoulder, and hooked the other under Lance’s knees. “I’m sorry if I jostle you too much,” Keith said just as he slowly rose from his crouched position with Lance cradled tightly in his arms.

Lance sucked in a harsh gasp through clenched, forehead creased in pain.

“Sorry,” Keith repeated, already swiftly starting towards the pods. He didn’t want to move too fast, but with Lance so close, the heat rolling off the brunet was deeply concerning.

It took only two minutes before Keith was kicking the door to the room with the pods open. Coran was the only one inside, wiping the outer glass of a pod as Keith burst in.

“Keith, my boy! What’s-”

“He needs a pod. Now.” Keith moved to the pod Coran was opening, and he eased Lance inside.

“He’s got a cut on his shoulder that’s infected,” he supplied just as Coran closed the door.

“He’ll have to be in there until dinner time then,” Coran answered.

Keith’s eyes lingered briefly on the pod before he turned on his heel. “I’ll go tell the others.”

*****

When the pod opened, Keith was at the ready with his arms open. Lance stumbled out, falling forward, and Keith caught him easily, hissing at Lance’s ice cold skin.

“I h-hate pods,” Lance whined, teeth clacking together loudly.

Keith led him over to a step and eased him down before moving to grab the blanket he brought in. He draped it across Lance’s shoulder before crouching down in front of the shivering boy with a frown.

“You want to tell me why you didn’t say anything about the cut?” Keith asked just as Lance poked and prodded at his healed shoulder.

His frown deepened when Lance visibly tensed at his words. “Lance?” He tried, but Lance wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I didn’t want you to feel guilty,” Lance whispered, and Keith titled his head.

“What?” He questioned slowly.

“I was standing too close. It was my fault.”

Lance’s voice was shaking just as hard as his limbs, and Keith placed a hesitant hand on Lance’s knee, prompting the brunet to look up.

“I don’t understand,” he said carefully, and Lance sighed.

“When we were cornered by the Galra. I was standing too close when you swung your Bayard.”

Realization flashed hot across Keith’s mind, and he jumped up and pushed himself far away from Lance, pressing his back hard against the wall opposite Lance.

“Keith, no,” Lance started quickly. He stood up, blanket dropping to the floor and pooling around his feet.

“I hurt you?” Keith asked, eyes dropping to his trembling hands. His chest was heaving with each gasping breath as panic flared hot across his chest.

“No,” Lance said, voice desperate. “No,” he repeated, closing the distance between the two. “You were focused on saving us, and I was just standing too close.”

Keith jumped as two hands dropped onto his shaking shoulders, and he snapped his gaze up to meet Lance’s wide, worried eyes.

“I hurt you,” he repeated, and before he knew it, he was being pulled against Lance’s chest. He gripped tightly at Lance’s shirt as Lance rubbed slow, soothing circles over his back.

“You didn’t, Keith,” Lance said, voice soft, gentle. “You would never hurt me.”

“But it was my Bayard,” Keith countered, voice muffled against Lance’s chest. Visions of Lance’s semi-conscious, trembling body were painted across his mind, and his stomach twisted miserably with guilt.

“You didn’t mean to,” Lance pressed, pulling away but keeping his hands clamped down on Keith’s shoulders. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, Keith. I don’t want you feeling guilty for this. I should have went into a pod when we got back.”

Any words Keith could have said were clouded by the thought that Lance could have died by his hand. Keith looked down, wringing his trembling hands as he tried to make sense of the fact that he almost killed Lance.

“Keith, look at me.”

Keith glanced up, and Lance cupped his cheek. “This. Isn’t. Your. Fault.”

Lance’s voice was stern, but there was no hostility in it, and Keith could do nothing but wrap his arms tightly around the brunet. Lance’s skin felt warm, healthy, the chill from the pod long gone, and Keith leaned into the warmth as he tightened his arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, earning a light smack on the back of the head right before Lance returned the hug.

“I said it’s not your fault, so stop being an idiot.”

Keith nodded, cherishing the light fondness lacing Lance’s tone, and the two remained that way until the others came pounding in to greet Lance.


	18. All Paladins Injured ft. A "Not" Injured Keith

Some missions just did not end in the Paladins’ favor; it was a fate the five were willing to accept anytime hand-to-hand combat was necessary. There were going to be bruises, maybe even broken bones, but the five played well off each other to ensure that everyone make it out alive and relatively okay.

This particular mission was rough to say the least. They had thought they were ambushing a small Galra base, but as it turned out, the Galra knew they were coming.

Each Paladin suffered substantial injuries, all except Keith, which he claimed to be because of his accuracy thanks to daily training.

Since he was the only one not limping or staggering in pain, Keith took it upon himself to help the others into and out of the pods while Coran and Allura worked to figure out how the Galra discovered their plans.

Each member had to be in for a different amount of time, so Keith stayed put, helping each Paladin when they staggered out and leading them back to their rooms to rest off the lingering pod effects.

Everything was going smoothly, but once only Lance remained in a pod, Keith’s mind finally caught up to the pain flaring hot across his ribs. It wasn’t terrible, and he’d sustained enough injuries in his lifetime to know what a bruised rib felt like.

He mentally told himself to just take things a little easy just as Lance’s pod whirred open. He was up on his feet, arms ready when Lance stumbled out.

Keith hissed at the icy skin seeping past his jacket as Lance fell into his arms. The added pressure did nothing to alleviate the throbbing of his ribs, but he ignored it in favor of helping Lance back to his room.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Lance asked as the two shuffled down the hallway.

“Yes,” Keith spit out, annoyance evident in his tone.

“Okay, you’re just moving kind of slow.”

It took Keith a second to realize Lance was having to slow to match his pace. “Sorry,” he muttered, quickening his pace until Lance was having to catch up. “Just distracted.”

“Not surprised,” Lance said as the two entered Lance’s room.

Keith leaned against a wall and crossed his arms as he watched Lance climb into bed. “What does that mean?”

“I just mean it was a rough battle that definitely didn’t go the way we planned.” Lance’s voice was muffled by the blanket he had pulled up to his chin to combat the small shivers still coursing through his body.

Keith nodded despite knowing Lance was already half-asleep. “It’s over now,” he muttered, turning toward the door. “So just rest.”

He heard Lance hum lightly in response right before the door clicked close.

*****

After a few days, everyone was up and back to normal. Breakfast was still disgusting but back to being loud, animated, and thanks to Keith’s insistence, they were all signed up for mandatory training.

“Warm ups are important,” Keith scolded at the other four. “If you don’t warm up, you aren’t going to be as quick and energized when fighting.”

“Keith, we can’t exactly warm up before a battle.”

Keith lifted his arms into a stretch, prompting the others to mirror him. “I know,” he said, inhaling, and exhaling deeply. The pain from his ribs was but a lingering annoyance by this point. “But if you warm up enough, your body will adjust.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Lance griped, breathing in and out in loud, exaggerated breaths.

“Hush,” Keith snapped, and everyone fell silent. He moved the four through light but effective warm ups of jogging, push ups, and stretches. All seemed more than annoyed but obeyed all the same.

When it came time to spar, Keith paired himself with Lance first. The latter was a sharp shooter, so he needed more work when it came to fighting with fists.

He walked Lance through the basic moves before the two started sparring. Keith easily deflected Lance’s sloppy swings toward his face, but he wasn’t quite fast enough when Lance’s foot came swinging toward his ribs.

The second Lance’s foot knocked into his ribs, hot, searing pain flared all across his torso, but when he went to gasp, his breath caught in his throat, and he crumpled to the ground, coughing harshly.

“Hey, I’m pretty good at this!”

Lance’s shout sounded muffled against Keith’s heart hammering loud in his ears. He couldn’t stop coughing; he couldn’t breathe. It was like his lungs were struggling to function. His chest was tight with pain, and the room was starting to spin.

“Keith?”

Hands fell onto his back, but he couldn’t stop. His eyes were watering as each, harsh cough tore up his throat. He cupped one hand over his mouth just as something hot, and wet flew from his mouth.

He pulled his hand away and studied the deep red blood splattered against his palm with furrowed brows as he wheezed.

“I-is that blood?”

“Shit, Keith!?”

“Keith, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t hit him that hard!”

Every voice sounded progressively farther away just as darkness crept at the edge of his vision. He desperately tried to get a solid breath in, but the coughing wasn’t letting up, and before he knew it, he felt himself falling forward as everything went black.

*****

When the pod door slid open, Keith staggered out, falling into strong, warm arms that felt heavenly against his chilled skin.

His mind was a clouded haze that his thoughts could not puncture, no matter how hard he tried to remember what happened.

“Let’s go sit down, yeah?”

The voice was gentle, concerned, familiar, and when Keith looked up, he was greeted with Lance’s red-rimmed eyes looking down at him.

Nodding, he allowed Lance to move them over to a step. Lance eased him down with caution before taking the empty spot beside him.

“What happened?” He asked, wrapping his arms around himself as his teeth clacked together.

“Did you get hurt in the battle and not say anything?”

Keith moved one hand to press against his ribs just as Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge walked in.

“Why?” He questioned slowly as the others gathered around him.

“Pidge thinks that you cracked your ribs during the fight and my kick broke a few into separate pieces. She said that a piece could have punctured your lung.”

The memories of the training and Lance’s kick washed over him in small, steady waves until he could feel the dull ache in his throat from all the coughing.

“Oh,” he managed out, gaze dropping to his trembling hands. “I thought they were just bruised.”

If the loud curse that followed was anything to go by, Keith would say his answer was not necessarily the right one.

“Keith, you idiot!” Shiro stormed forward, crouching in front of Keith. “You should have said something! You could have died!”

Keith winced at Shiro’s loud, almost frantic tone, and he silently welcomed Lance’s strong, steady hand against his back.

“I don’t think yelling is going to help anyone,” Hunk tried just as he and Pidge crouched down until they were eye level with Keith and Lance.

“I know,” Shiro spit out, breathing deeply. “I know,” he repeated, voice calmer. “I’m sorry. You just scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Keith muttered, wringing his hands. “I really thought I was okay.”

A sigh followed by a hand on his shoulder had Keith looking up, eyes darting between the four watching him.

“Can we establish a rule right now?” Shiro asked, voice firm but no longer housing the anger from before.

Keith nodded just as the other three did, and Shiro got to his feet.

“If one of us is hurt in any manner, and I’m talking even just a paper cut, you say something. Got it?”

Keith muttered out an agreement and allowed Lance to help him to his feet.

“Now, go rest. We can talk more about self-preservation when you wake up.”

Keith nodded, words dead on his tongue as Lance led him out of the room.

“You really are an idiot,” Lance said once the two were alone in the hallway.

“I really thought I was okay,” he pressed, frowning at Lance’s light laugh in response.

“Yeah, okay Mr. Invincible,” Lance muttered as the two started toward Keith’s room.


	19. Swim Teachers Keith and Lance ft. Sick Lance

“Why are you here?” Keith questioned, voice harsh. He followed Lance into the men’s changing room, watching with narrow eyes as the boy shivered while slipping his shirt off.

“Those kids aren’t going to teach themselves,” Lance answered, voice light yet raspy.

“I can teach them if you’re sick,” Keith countered, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

Lance opened his mouth to reply but ended up doubled over in a harsh coughing fit that left Keith wincing. He wasn’t the best when it came comforting people, so he opted to keep his spot against the wall while Lance struggled through the fit.

“I’m,” Lance started, hands pressed against his knees as he gulped in air. “Fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keith said, voice flat. He turned on his heel and left the room. His kids weren’t going to wait forever.

*****

“Keith! Lance is going to demonstrate a dive for his students!”

Keith’s gaze followed where one of his students was pointing until his eyes fell upon a very pale and very shaky Lance standing on the edge of the diving board.

“Idiot,” he muttered quietly under his breath just as Lance jumped, shaping his body into a smooth arch as he pointed his clasped hands toward the water.

The splash that followed Lance’s dive left the students giggling, but the pool area quickly fell silent when Lance didn’t surface right away.

Keith’s legs were moving before his mind, picking up speed until he was sprinting toward Lance. Adrenaline was coursing through his body as he dove into the water, arms pushing hard against the water in order to reach the sinking boy as fast as possible.

He snaked an arm around Lance’s waist before kicking up off the bottom of the pool. His legs kicked harder with the added weight, but soon enough, he and Lance were breaking the surface.

Keith gasped, hair clinging to his eyes as he struggled toward the side of the pool with Lance’s dead-weight in tow. He was thankful when some of the older kids reached for Lance just as the two made it to the edge of the pool.

Keith hoisted himself up and out of the water just as the few kids helping were easing Lance down on the ground.

He crawled over to Lance and began chest compressions almost immediately. “Sarah, can you go tell the woman at the front desk to call for an ambulance?” He asked, not losing the count in his head.

The young girl darted off just as he hit the thirty count. He moved his hands, tilting Lance’s chin up slightly before leaning in to blow air into Lance’s mouth.

The heat radiating from Lance was deeply concerning, but he pushed his focus toward getting Lance to wake up first. He moved back to chest compressions, pushing harder and harder until finally, Lance’s eyes snapped open with a gasp.

Keith was quick to roll Lance onto his side as the latter began to cough up water. He pat his hand against Lance’s back.

“God,” Lance grumbled in between coughs.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Keith hissed, earning a loud shush from Lance.

“Language, Keith,” Lance scolded as he moved into a sitting position, arms instantly wrapping around himself as he started to shiver.

“Jake, can you go get a few dry towels?” Keith asked, and once the young boy ran off, Keith moved until he was sitting beside Lance. He wrapped an arm around Lance’s shoulders, rubbing his hand up down Lance’s arm.

“G-god,” Lance moaned through chattering teeth. “I’m f-freezing.”

A scold was hot on Keith’s lips, but he kept silence and focused on warming Lance. When Jake came back with a few towels, Keith was quick to grab them and wrap them all around Lance.

“The ambulance is here!”

Keith and Lance both snapped their necks to see Sarah running back in with a few paramedics hot on her heels.

*****

“103.7, Lance! You could have killed yourself! What if I hadn’t been there? What impression does that put on the kids!?” Keith shouted, pacing quickly back and forth in front of the open back of the ambulance where Lance sat with a blanket wrapped tightly around him.

As soon as the paramedic announced Lance’s temperature, Keith lost it. He knew Lance was sick, but not that sick, and he was beyond freaking out at this point.

“I know, Keith. I already apologized like five times. Now, can you please stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.”

Keith moved until he was seated beside Lance, legs dangling out of the back of the ambulance. “You’re an idiot,” he said with a sigh.

“You’ve already said that at least seven times,” Lance said, voice soft.

The two fell quiet with Lance’s coughing serving as the only sound to fill the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said after a few minutes. “You just scared the shit out of me.”

Lance nodded, coughing harshly into his fist. “I don’t know what happened. As soon as I jumped, I got dizzy. I don’t even remember hitting the water.”

Thoughts of what could have happened flashed hot across Keith’s mind, but there was no point in verbalizing them now. Lance seemed miserable enough as it was.

“Just don’t do it again,” Keith muttered, crossing his arms.

“So, how was it?” Lance asked suddenly, voice raw but teasing.

Keith glanced at him, arching an eyebrow in question.

“Little Callie said you gave me mouth-to-mouth. So, how was it kissing me?”

Keith groaned, rubbing at his temples. “I hate you,” he spit out, annoyance laced within his tone.

“No, you don’t,” Lance sang out.


	20. Sick Pidge on her Birthday

Pidge had been the first to figure out a way to determine the date while in space. It hadn’t taken long, and everyone had agreed that her methods yielded accurate results.

The morning of April third, Pidge woke to a splitting headache hours before breakfast. Sitting up proved to be difficult as the entire room tilted with the movement. Going back to sleep seemed the best option, but Pidge was confident she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep even if she tried– her head was throbbing too painfully.

When she got to her feet, everything went dark, and she blindly reached out for her bedside table to keep from falling to the floor. She stood, trembling and blinking away the darkness as her heart hammered hard against her chest.

After two minutes, the light returned, but the haze in her sight remained. She started towards the door on shaking legs, leaving her glasses as she left in search of something to help her head.

The walk toward the kitchen was long and very cold. Pidge shuffled forward with her shoulders hunched over and her arms wrapped tightly around her shivering frame. She was forced to stop every few seconds and brace herself against a wall as a coughing fit tore up her throat, and by the time she stumbled into the kitchen, her forehead was glistening with sweat, and her breath was coming out in ragged gasps.

She searched high and low for two minutes but came up empty. Going to Med Bay was next on her list, but it was all the way on the other side of the castle, and she was sure she would never make it, not with every limb screaming in protest.

The couch in the lounge outside of the kitchen seemed more appealing with each passing second, and before she knew it, she was staggering out of the kitchen and into the lounge.

The cushions were hard, courtesy of the Altean belief that rest should be minimal, but Pidge could care less. She curled up on her side, knees drawn tightly to her chest, and squeezed her eyes shut as if that action alone was enough to force sleep to take hold.

*****

“Wow, she looks like shit.”

“Lance!”

“Well, she does! She’s all sweaty, and her face is all red!”

“Hey, Pidge?”

Pidge groaned but opened her eyes, blinking tiredly until Keith’s worried face came into view. “Go away,” she muttered through chattering teeth.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Pidge breathed out. She didn’t think it was possible, but her head was hurting more than before, and she found that she couldn’t push past the pain the collect her thoughts.

“I could get Shiro.”

“No,” Pidge said, louder, which proved a mistake for the next second, she was pushing up on shaking arms as cough after cough clawed up her irritated throat and left her lungs crackling loudly.

Keith had hands on her back while Lance took the other side, helping her sit up fully.

“Why?” Keith asked once Pidge caught her breath, but Pidge shook her head.

“He’s busy. All the black lion stuff.” Talking hurt, not just her throat, but her head as well. Just moving her lips to form words left her feeling drained, and she wanted nothing more than for Lance and Keith to leave her here to die.

She was about to voice this desire, but her words trailed off when Lance draped his jacket over her shoulders. She shot him a thankful look before turning toward Keith just as Keith pressed a cool palm to her forehead, frowning deeply on contact.

“How bad?” Lance asked.

“She’s burning,” Keith muttered, and Pidge wasn’t surprised by the answer.

“The pods won’t work for illness,” Lance said, more to himself. “We’ll have to handle this the old-fashioned way.”

Before Pidge could wrap her mind around Lance’s words, Keith was gently lifting her into his arms, cradling her tightly against his chest.

“Wait,” she tried, but Keith shushed her.

“It’s fine, Pidge. Lance and I will take care of you. We can get Hunk to make you soup.”

She pressed her face against Keith’s chest, and he carried her, with Lance hot on his heels, toward her bedroom.

*****

“Pidge? Are you back with us?”

Pidge cracked her eyes open to see Shiro sitting on the edge of her bed with something clasped in his hands.

She nodded in answer. Everything felt heavy and fuzzy, but she felt warm for the first time in a long time– perhaps a little too warm.

“Today’s your birthday.”

Oh. Pidge glanced toward her wall beside her door, noting the absence of the makeshift calendar she had made. She turned her attention back to the calendar in Shiro’s hands and nodded once more.

Shiro stood suddenly, and Pidge was about to ask where he was headed when he opened her bedroom door, and everyone came quietly piling in.

There was some hushed whispering before Hunk stepped forward with a giant, white cake laced with green ribbons and topped with a small, sculpted Rover.

Tears began to well in her eyes as the group began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ while being mindful of her pounding head.

She hadn’t thought about her birthday in a long time. Her thoughts were almost always consumed by Voltron or Matt and her father, and needless to say, she was very overwhelmed by the pouring affection of her teammates on her birthday.

“I’m sure you probably aren’t all that hungry right now,” Hunk said with a sympathetic smile. “So we will save this for when you are well again.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, throat too sore to speak any louder.

“So, you better focus on getting better because that cake looks delicious!” Lance shot Pidge and toothy grin, and Pidge shot a smile back.

“And once you are at full health, there’s a planet I wish to take you to. I think you will like it,” Allura said, and Pidge swiped her hand at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Okay,” she breathed out. Her heart was swelling in her chest as she watched her friends smiling at her.

For a brief moment, she was able to forget how she felt thanks to the friends that put up with her on a daily basis, and she was eager to get back to resting for there was a lot to look forward to when she was well again.


	21. Lance Having A Seizure

It didn’t take long for the Paladins to learn to not underestimate their Bayards.

When Pidge shocked Lance with hers, she didn’t mean it as anything other than an annoyed jab to hush the boy, and when he fell to the ground, she smirked.

But, he didn’t come back up.

“Um, guys?” She started, staring at Lance with furrowed brows, and when Lance suddenly started convulsing, she cursed loudly. “Shit! Guys!”

Shiro was first over, dropping to his knees beside Lance. His hands hovered above Lance’s seizing body, unsure of what to do, but when Hunk yelled “Don’t touch him!”, he jerked his hands back to his sides.

Keith crouched down on the other side of Lance just as Hunk barreled forward. “What do we do?” Keith questioned, unable to keep his voice from trembling. He felt helpless as Lance shook violently right in front of him.

“Nothing,” Hunk said while rhythmically tapping his finger against his thigh to keep count. “We just have to wait.”

“How are we supposed to just wait?!” Keith clenched his hands into fists to hide the shaking that was stemmed from the panic swelling within his chest.

“It’s standard procedure for seizures,” Pidge said, but even as she said it, her voice cracked, and everyone looked quickly to her to see her eyes welling with tears.

“Pidge,” Shiro started, but she held a hand up.

“Don’t. Just- don’t.” She swiped at her eyes but kept her focus on Lance.

Hunk was beginning to panic when he hit the hundredth count, and he contemplated getting Lance to the pods, but luckily, Lance’s convulsing began to ease up, and after a few more seconds, he fell still.

“Hunk?” Keith asked, voice thick with concern. He kept his eyes trained on Lance’s still form. “What do we do?”

No sooner had the words left Keith’s mouth, Lance’s eyes snapped open, and Hunk was quick to crouch down and roll Lance onto his side just as the latter started heaving, right onto Shiro’s knees.

“Take it easy, Lance,” Hunk soothed, rubbing Lance’s back gently.

Keith watched with bated breath until finally, after what felt like a millennium, Lance stopped heaving.

“The mission,” Lance whispered. He was panting and shaking all over.

“Lance,” Shiro tried, ignoring the vomit covering his legs. “We are at the castle.”

“This will happen sometimes, too,” Pidge said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she watched with wide, worried eyes.

“No,” Lance coughed out as he struggled into a sitting position. “No. I failed.” His chest was heaving with each word. “Keith. Keith, he-”

Keith was up on his feet, and he moved around until he was crouched in front of Lance and beside Shiro. “Lance, I’m right here.” He reached a hand out but stopped, eyeing Hunk with questioning eyes. When Hunk nodded, he carefully placed his hand on Lance’s cheek.

Lance flinched. “No, Keith. I failed. I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save anyone. I can’t do this!”

Keith pulled his hand back and looked to Hunk with furrowed brows. 

“Just give him a few minutes,” Hunk said, keeping one hand on Lance’s back.

And, they did. The four watched for five minutes as Lance sobbed about how useless he was– about how his stupidity cost the lives of everyone who mattered to him.

With each gasping sob, Keith’s heart clenched, and based on the others’ pale, pinched faces, he’d say they felt the same. But, finally, Lance stopped talking, and he blinked up at Keith with tired eyes.

“What’s going on?”

Keith breathed out a sigh he wasn’t aware he was holding in just as Pidge pushed herself in between Shiro and Keith.

“Are you hurt?” She questioned sharply, and Lance seemed to contemplate this for a moment before shaking his head, prompting Pidge to lunge forward and wrap her arms tightly around Lance.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed out, and Lance was at a loss, but after a moment, he lifted his arms and returned the hug.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked, looking to Shiro and Keith.

Hunk stepped into view. “You had a seizure after Pidge shocked you with her Bayard.”

Lance frowned, but after a solid minute of thinking, he could not recall this ever happening. He couldn’t recall much of anything really. He just felt tired, exhausted even, and he wanted to go crawl into his bed.

“I didn’t know that would happen. I should have never done that. It was stupid.”

Lance pat Pidge’s back, unsure of what else to do to bring the crying girl to ease. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” he tried, and after a few more moments, she finally pulled away and got to her feet.

Lance’s eyes fell to the vomit splayed across Shiro’s legs. “Did I do that?” He asked, motioning weakly, and when Shiro nodded, his frown deepened. “Shiro, I’m-”

Shiro held a hand up, cutting Lance off. “You have nothing to apologize for, Lance. This is nothing.” He stood and started to the door, putting a hand on Pidge’s back to prompt her to go with. “I’m going to get cleaned up and get Pidge settled down. You got this, Hunk?”

Hunk nodded, and Shiro and Pidge left the room with the promise to meet Lance in his bedroom in a few minutes. 

“Keith,” Hunk started, nodding to the door. “Can you get Lance back to his room so I can clean this up?”

“Hunk, I’ll clean-”

Hunk shushed Lance. “All you need to do right now is rest, Lance. Besides, I’ve got a lot of experience with cleaning vomit.” He shot Lance a smile, and Lance returned a shaky grin. 

Keith was incredibly cautious when helping Lance to his feet, but soon enough, he and Lance were out of the room and in the hallway.

The walk was quiet. Keith couldn’t get Lance’s words stemmed from the confusion out of his mind, and before he knew it, he was opening his mouth.

“You aren’t useless, Lance.”

Lance froze, his whole body tensing up. “Huh?”

“Just,” Keith started, struggling to find the right words. “Just know that you aren’t useless, okay? We need you here.”

Lance looked down but nodded, and Keith made a mental note to talk more with Lance when he wasn’t practically dead on his feet about how valued and loved he was here.


	22. Lance Doesn't Know How to Say No (Even When Sick)

When Lance woke up that morning with a pounding head and throbbing throat, he knew he was in for a long day. Luckily for him, there wasn’t much on the agenda for the Paladins.

Since their last Galra battle, things had settled significantly within the castle. Each Paladin occupied their time in varying ways, and Lance could find nothing better than spending his day dozing on the couch to try and combat the dull ache that seemed to be tagged to the hammering headache and irritated throat.

Lance was only twenty minutes into his nap when Pidge shook him awake.

“Can you help me with something real quick?”

Lance pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his legs around until his feet hit the floor. “What’s up?” He asked, voice thick and raspy. He cleared his throat and titled his head in question.

“I’m having trouble reaching some wires in my lion, and everyone else is busy.”

Lance nodded and followed the girl out of the room.

The task, while small, took a little under an hour, and Lance was relieved when he was able to climb back onto the couch. Every muscle was beginning to ache. His limbs felt like lead, and standing was becoming a challenge. 

He had just fallen back to sleep when Coran walked in.

“Lance, my boy! Would you care to help me clean a few of the pods?”

Lance nodded and slowly sat up, limbs cracking and popping as he stood up on shaking legs.

He had grown accustomed to cleaning the pods, and normally, he could have had three cleaned in twenty minutes, but he couldn’t find the energy today. Each up and down movement with the sponge in his hands was draining what little energy he had left, and by the time Coran dismissed him, he was shaking with chills yet drenched in sweat.

The tough couch cushions looked like heaven when he finally returned, and he collapsed face first onto the couch, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the cushion.

After two fitful hours of sleep, Shiro and Keith walked in.

“Lance. Wake up.”

Lance cracked his eyes open to see two blurry figures hovering over him, but even through the haze, he could make out Keith’s mullet and Shiro’s scar.

“What?” He whispered, throat feeling as if it were littered with glass.

“We need you to come help us with sparring. I need to show Shiro certain techniques before he tries them.”

The thought of sparring alone made Lance shudder, and he shook his head. “Can you ask Hunk or Pidge? I’m not feeling so hot.”

Shiro and Keith both fell silent as the two sported pinched looks of disappointment, and before Lance knew it, he was struggling into a sitting position.

“Nevermind,” he started, hopping to his feet despite every joint protesting. The room began to tilt as soon as he put pressure on his feet, but he shook his head until everything stilled. “I can help! I want to help!”

“Great! Thanks, Lance!” Shiro clamped a hand down on Lance’s shoulder as the three started toward the training deck.

Five minutes later, and Lance was standing in front of Keith with his fists raised. Small chills were coursing through his body, yet he was having to repeatedly swipe away the sweat dripping from his bangs.

His vision was going in and out of focus, but when Keith’s leg swung at him, he just managed to block it from hitting his ribs. The block was sloppy, with his wrist taking the brunt of the hit, and Keith shot him a frown.

“Lance, focus! I need you to grab my foot when I swing it at you.”

Lance’s heart was pounding in his ears, making everything around him sound faded and muffled, but he nodded all the same and motioned for Keith to go again.

But, when Keith’s foot came flying at him, he couldn’t get his hand up fast enough, and before he knew it, he was crumpling to the ground as pain flared hot across his side.

“Lance!”

Keith’s voice was sharp, annoyed, and Lance struggled back to his feet, only to stagger forward as the room jolted.

He landed against Shiro’s chest, but when he tried to push away, Shiro stopped him with two hands on his shoulders.

“Hang on a second, Lance,” Shiro started, forehead creased in concern.

Shaking his head, Lance tried once more to move away but froze when Shiro’s cool palm pressed against his forehead.

“Lance! You’re burning up!”

Lance winced because Shiro’s raised tone felt like daggers piercing his head, and he stumbled backwards, clutching at his head as if that would stop the pain. He fell back against something hard and firm, and when he felt a hand on the small of his back, he knew it was Keith.

“Easy,” Keith hissed into his ear, and Lance tensed.

The pounding in his head was making it hard to concentrate, and his limbs felt as if they were coated with a layer of ice despite his skin feeling sticky with sweat. He wanted nothing more than to go back to his room to sleep, but he knew the two were depending on him.

“I’m okay,” he wheezed out, breaths ragged. “I can keep going.”

“Like hell you can,” Keith snapped, snaking an arm around Lance’s waist just as Lance tried to move away.

“Lance, you need to be in bed resting. You’re sick,” Shiro said gently, but Lance shook his head.

“No. I’m really okay. We don’t have to stop.” He tried to pull away from Keith, but Keith only responded by tightening the arm that was keeping Lance locked in place against chest.

“You’re done,” Keith breathed lowly into Lance’s ear, and Lance’s shoulder slumped in defeat.

He offered a small nod just before the two led him out of the training deck.

The walk back to his room was quiet, with the only sounds of their footsteps and his ragged breathing echoing against the walls, but after a few moments, Shiro cleared his throat.

“We’re sorry.”

Lance frowned and glanced up at Shiro with questioning eyes.

“You said you weren’t feeling well, but Keith and I still pushed you.” Shiro’s voice was thick with guilt, and Lance waved a hand.

“No, no. It’s fine,” he started through chattering teeth. The chills from before had come back stronger and harder. “I wanted to help.”

Keith scoffed at his other side, but Lance knew there was no anger attached to it.

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again.” Keith muttered, and Lance’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t do what?”

Keith stopped and motioned wildly at Lance. “This. The whole ‘I’m sick but going to power through it’ thing. Don’t do it again.”

There was a lot Lance wanted to say to that, but the three entered his room, and his bed shone like a beacon of light that was waiting to wisp him away from the pain coursing through his body.

He stumbled forward and just managed to crawl into bed with the blankets pulled up tightly to his chin before sleep took hold.


	23. Sick, Touch-Starved Keith ft. Caring Lance

Keith didn’t get sick often. Even as a child, his immune system always worked in his favor. But, if a day came where he was struck with illness, he pushed through, that’s just how he did things when being alone for a large portion of his life.

However, since joining Voltron, he found that he gained a new family, who were all very willing to do just about anything for him when he was sick. 

He found that he didn’t need much when sick. All he wanted was a touch, a presence, a soft, steady person to hold him while his body fought against whatever virus that was running rampant inside him.

So, when he fell victim to a mysterious space flu one afternoon that left him achy and feverish, Lance quietly entered his room and crawled into bed with him.

The movements between the two had become routine. Lance lied flat on his back, and Keith rolled onto his stomach and pressed his cheek against Lance’s chest just as Lance wrapped long, strong arms around him.

Neither talked. Keith would time his breathing to the sound of Lance’s strong, steady heartbeat thumping against his ear while Lance carded slender fingers through his hair, a motion that left Keith dozing blissfully despite his aching limbs and throbbing head.

The warmth, the familiarity of Lance’s presence alone was enough to combat the illness. He didn’t need medicine; hell, he didn’t even need water. When he was cradled in Lance’s arms, that was all he needed to make a full recovery.

When Lance shifted ever so slightly, Keith would curl his fingers tightly into Lance’s shirt as if clutching at a lifeline, but Lance never left. Even if Keith fell asleep, Lance was always there when he woke.

The two would lie like that for hours on end. Occasionally, someone would come in to check on them, only to leave quietly when Lance motioned that he had everything under control.

Keith wasn’t one to be soft, vulnerable, but when sick, he nudged down the hard, cold walls he built up and allowed Lance in. And, Lance strolled in like a solid, glowing presence. A beacon of light to brighten the darkness that stemmed from years upon years of solitude. A journey and a goal all at once.

Keith thought that perhaps he was too soft, too clingy, while sick, but he couldn’t help it when Lance waltzed in with an air of warmth surrounding him.

The attention, the gentle touches, and the solid presence of one blue paladin was all Keith needed, and by the next day, he was feeling better, stronger, and he knew, he always knew, that he had Lance to thank for that.


	24. Lance Contracting an Alien Virus that Changes His Personality

“Good morning, Keith.”

Keith froze with one eyebrow arched. He slowly studied the brunet in front of him. “No ‘mullet’ this morning?”

“That would be rude,” Lance said, lips curled into a frown.

Keith’s face fell until he was matching the brunet’s expression. “Are you okay?” He zeroed in on small details, like the way Lance’s normally tan skin looked slightly washed out or the dark, bruised circles under Lance’s almost lifeless eyes.

“Of course.” Lance replied, tone even. “We should go before we are late to breakfast.”

Keith absently nodded, brows furrowed deeply, as he followed the brunet into the dining hall.

*****

“Okay, spill. What’s wrong with Lance?” Shiro’s voice was firm yet there was a soft hint of concern coloring his tone, but Keith only threw his hands up.

“I have no idea! He’s been like that since this morning!” Keith shouted before falling back against the couch in the lounge. His mind was running a mile a minute.

He had spent the entirety of breakfast studying Lance, watching the brunet’s stick-straight back, and his slow and steady movements as he brought spoonful after spoonful of food goo to his mouth without uttering a single complaint.

The others had quickly caught on, and as soon as breakfast ended, Shiro summoned everyone but Lance to the lounge for a meeting.

“Maybe he had a bad dream,” Hunk supplied, and Keith considered it.

It wasn’t impossible, especially if Lance had a dream reminding him of Earth, of the cool drops of rain on a warm April day or of the welcoming hugs from his family.

Everyone knew Lance was homesick; he made it quite obvious on multiple occasions, so perhaps he was just brutally reminded of what he was sacrificing to be a member of Voltron.

“Let’s just keep an eye on him,” Shiro ordered, and the others agreed.

*****

For the next three days, the group took turns reporting on Lance’s behavior, but to their dismay, nothing was changing. If anything, Lance was getting worse. He was blaringly polite in any matter, but the worst of all, he was quiet– borderline silent. He was no longer cracking jokes at inappropriate times, laughing at Keith’s misfortune when training didn’t go as planned, or smiling when Hunk and Pidge came into the room after perfecting a new recipe.

It was as if Lance, the lively, determined Lance, was gone, and only a hollow, lifeless shell of what he had been remained.

Needless to say, the others were panicking. Pidge had spent the following morning assessing Lance. She checked for a fever, but found his skin cool to the touch. His pulse beat steadily against her fingertips, and he was able to perfectly follow the movements of her index finger when she moved it from side to side in front of his face.

Inwardly, he seemed healthy enough, but his outer appearance said anything but. His deep tan had taken to a ghostly pale color that did nothing but enhance the dark purple bruises coloring below his eyes. And, his eyes? His eyes were completely devoid of color, light, life. They were but hollow holes that looked on without really seeing.

“Princess, what is this?” Shiro hissed quietly when he had led Allura and Keith out of the room while Pidge studied Lance.

“I’m afraid I’m not sure.”

Keith cursed under his breath. “He’s practically fading before our very eyes, and you don’t know why?” He asked sharply, eyes narrowed.

Allura’s brows furrowed as if deep in thought. “Wait,” she started, tapping at her chin. “There’s an Altean virus called Spirit Feeder.”

“Spirit Feeder?” Keith questioned slowly, already hating how it sounded.

“Yes, it’s rare, but it causes a person to morph into someone they aren’t until they essentially fade from existence.”

Keith’s breath caught in his throat, and he staggered until his back hit the wall beside Lance’s bedroom door.

“What can we do?” Shiro asked, voice mirroring that of someone in control yet eyes trembling with worry.

“I will have to run some tests. The cure is simple for Alteans, but it could get quite complicated for humans.”

_“Shiro! Keith!”_

Keith and Shiro jumped and turned toward the bedroom door at the sound of Pidge’s panicked voice.

“Please, hurry,” Shiro commanded just as he and Keith ran back into the bedroom.

*****

The next two days were long. Keith was put solely in charge of watching Lance while Pidge and Hunk helped Allura, with Coran and Shiro keeping a close eye out for Galra.

Keith spent most of his time in Lance’s room, trying to will the brunet back with familiarity, but nothing was working.

When he showed Lance the facial mask the brunet loved, Lance waved it off as a trivial item not necessary for daily routine.

He took Lance to see Blue, but the giant lion recoiled away, and Lance didn’t seem to take any care in that.

With nothing physical or concrete working, Keith took to talking.

“You hated me, Lance. Remember? Because you thought I was better than you back at the Garrison.”

“That seems silly,” Lance said, voice soft. “Jealousy only leads to problems.”

Keith sighed, taking the spot on the edge of the bed beside Lance. He dropped his elbows against his knees and hung his head.

“You seem sad, Keith. What’s wrong.”

Keith breathed out a light laugh that carried no heart with it. “I miss you,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “I miss your stupid jokes. I miss your stupid laugh when I fall during training. I miss your stupid smile waiting for me every morning when we walk to breakfast.”

He sat up and jabbed his index finger against Lance’s chest as tears he was not aware of spilled from his eyes. “I miss _you_.”

Lance blinked as if in surprise, and Keith’s face lit up, hoping for a breakthrough, but seconds later, Lance’s eyes rolled back, and he fell back against the bed in a lifeless heap that left Keith screaming.

*****

Keith didn’t take his eyes from Lance, who was hooked up to multiple machines in the Med Bay. He had spent the last two days watching Allura administer medications that did nothing for the brunet.

Many times, Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge came to try and get him to get rest, but Keith always declined. He was determined to wait this out. He needed to be there when Lance woke up, if Lance woke up…

So, the others took to bringing him food and water, but Keith found he didn’t have an appetite, so he let everything sit and go to waste while keeping his eyes trained on the pale, lifeless boy in front of him.

By the third day and the fifth round of new medicine, Keith was growing desperate, but like the sun piercing through a dark storm cloud, Lance moved.

“Lance?” Keith said carefully as he leaned forward and grabbed one of the brunet’s hands.

Lance blinked away the haziness coating his vision. He stared at the many lines of tubes pumping medicine into him with a frown. “What’s going on?”

Keith felt as if his heart stopped, but he pressed on. “Lance, is that you?”

Lance rolled his head to the side until he was facing Keith. His eyes fell onto Keith’s hand gripping his, and he smirked weakly. “Aren’t you supposed to take me out on a date first?”

Keith let out a gasping sob as he dropped his forehead against their clasped hands. “You’re back,” he cried out.

“Where did I go?” Lance questioned, reaching with his free hand to awkwardly pat Keith’s head to try and calm the sobbing boy.

Keith sat up, sniffling loudly. “You weren’t you,” he replied, and when Lance shot him a confused look, he took in a few deep breaths, calming himself some.

“It’s complicated, and I’ll explain, but I have to let the others know you’re back first.” Keith hopped to his feet and started toward the door but froze with his hand hovering above the doorknob. He glanced back at Lance, and before he knew it, he was racing back to the brunet and throwing his arms around him.

Lance jumped in surprise but returned the hug and allowed Keith to cry against his neck for a few moments.

“I’m just so glad you’re back,” Keith muttered, and Lance rubbed his back with a soft yet confused smile.

“Sorry I left,” he whispered. He didn’t know what happened, but any verbal complaints fell on silent lips. It wasn’t everyday he got to wake up to Keith hugging him, so he’d take it.


	25. College AU Klance ft. Panicking Keith

English paper. Physics test. Chemistry lab. History report. Math homework. Soccer practice. Student Government Association meeting. RA work.

The list only continued to grow with each passing second. Every time Keith blinked, something new was added to the heavy catalog that was his college career.

He was told as a young, budding freshman that in order to keep his full-ride scholarship, he’d have to maintain a 4.0 GPA on top of being an exemplary student across the campus, and he did.

For two years, he pushed through each day with a wide smile, but as a junior now, he was tired, his grades were starting to slip, and he wasn’t sure what to do.

One slip-up, and he was done. He could kiss all the hard work Shiro had put into getting him there goodbye.

And, just the thought of disappointing Shiro was the tipping point.

It had been a slow build up over the last few weeks. It started when he made a C on a Physics midterm, it grew when he got chewed out by his boss for allowing a few students to sneak alcohol in, it escalated when he fell at soccer practice and rolled his ankle, and now he was here, and he couldn’t breathe.

His dorm room felt hot and tight, and his hands were shaking despite the sweat sliding down his temples. He collapsed onto the edge of his bed, curled his fingers into fists, and braced them against his knees as he struggled to take in air, desperate to relieve the pressure on his chest.

His world was collapsing all around him, and even if he tried to catch it, the bits and pieces keeping him together slipped through his fingers. He was falling, just like his grades, just like his life.

“Hey, Superman? Some kid in the hallway wants… Keith?”

Keith could see Lance, could see the brunet’s lips moving, but words fell deaf to his ears. The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat rapidly thumping against his heaving chest.

“Uh, you good man?”

Lance was crouched in front of him now, forehead creased in concern, and Keith shook his head, unable to push words past his tightening throat.

“Oh. Okay. Um, okay. What’s wrong?”

Keith shrugged helplessly while pointing towards his throat then down to his chest. The room was starting to darken from, he presumed, lack of oxygen, and his mind was growing hazy, but he snapped to attention when Lance pressed a hand against his chest.

“God, your heart is racing. Is this… Are you having a panic attack?”

Nodding frantically, Keith tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt like it were choking him.

“Shit.” Lance paused, eyes darting across Keith’s face. “Shit, okay. I need you to breathe.”

Despite darkness creeping at the edge of his vision, Keith shot Lance a narrow-eyed glare that all but screamed ‘no shit’. Luckily, Lance picked up on his look quickly.

“Shit, right. You can’t. Okay, okay.” The words were tumbling off Lance’s tongue as he struggled to find the right thing to say to calm Keith. Panic attacks weren’t necessarily his forte.

“What color is my shirt?” Lance blurted out suddenly, and Keith raised his brows high in disbelief.

“Well, you see I personally think it’s turquoise, but Pidge told me earlier ‘Lance, it’s blue. Stop acting so entitled.’” Lance said, raising his voice in a poor attempt to imitate how Pidge sounded, and Keith shook his head in exasperation.

“It’s clearly turquoise,” he rasped out in between gasping breaths as he eyed the blue-green shirt.

“Exactly!” Lance cheered before lifting his arm, revealing multiple, brightly colored rubber bracelets, and when Keith tilted his head in question, Lance tapped the bracelets lightly.

“Some sophomores were selling them in support of LGBTG Awareness Week, but is red really necessary? It’s the color of blood– seems a bit gruesome.”

Keith huffed. “I like red!” He motioned to his red, cropped jacket. “Besides, red is a color of empowerment!”

Lance smiled, which only further annoyed Keith, and his frown deepened. “Lance-”

“You’re okay now? You can breathe?”

Keith froze, eyes wide. He hadn’t realized that while Lance was talking to him, his heartbeat slowed to a healthy thud, and he no longer felt like he was suffocating. He could only nod in response, mouth opening and closely absently in surprise. 

“Good. You scared me. Now, you want to tell me why you, the one and only Keith ‘Superman’ Kogane, were having a panic attack?”

The reality of Keith’s crumbling life came rushing back to him, and he dropped his face into his hands. “I’m fucking everything up. I’m going to lose my scholarship.”

“What did you ‘fuck up’?” Lance questioned quietly, and Keith explained.

He looked up from his hands and told Lance about the last few weeks, and when he finished, Lance breathed out a wispy laugh that left Keith frowning, offended.

“Lance, I didn’t confide in you so you can laugh at me.”

“I’m laughing because I’m relieved,” Lance started, and Keith’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I was starting to think you weren’t real,” Lance explained. “Everything seems so easy for you, and I was beginning to think that you were robot or something.”

Keith dropped his face back into his cupped hands and groaned. “You don’t get it,” he started, voice muffled against his palms. “If I lose my scholarship, I’m done.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m acing Physics,” Lance said, and Keith snapped his head up, eyes meeting Lance’s bright, glimmering ones.

“What are you saying?”

“That you have a roommate who is smart and is willing to help you because he’s not sure he can handle pulling you back from another panic attack.”

Keith’s shoulders slumped, but Lance’s hand on his back felt warm and welcomed. 

“You know, you don’t have to go about things alone, Keith. It’s okay to ask for help.”

Keith nodded, and seconds later, Lance stood from the bed and motioned toward their shared desk.

“Want to get started on getting that Physics grade up?”

Nodding once more, Keith stood, smiling softly as he followed Lance over to the desk.


	26. Injured Keith ft. Caretaker Lance

When Keith stumbled during training, his ankle twisted awkwardly, and he fell to the ground with a sharp hiss.

He desperately called out for an end to the simulation he was fighting just before the robot swung a blade down on him.

The slightest jostle of his ankle left him wincing, but soon enough, he was positioned with his legs stretched out in front of him. He carefully tugged his pant leg up, and he could see the swelling and feel the heat without even removing his shoe. 

“Fuck,” he spit out, hands hovering above the obvious sprain, but when he heard footsteps echoing from the hall, he swallowed down the nausea stemmed from the pain and struggled to his feet just as Lance and Shiro walked in.

“Keith! Are you ever going to come to dinner?”

Keith coolly popped his left hip out and leaned into it, putting majority of his weight onto his left leg in order to keep pressure off his throbbing right foot. “Yeah,” he breathed out casually. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“We can wait,” Shiro said, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms.

Cursing mentally, Keith figured that there was no way out of this, so he clenched his teeth and started towards the two boys. Each step felt as if small bones in his foot were shattering, but somehow, he managed to keep his face calm and smooth despite the pain bringing dizziness and nausea.

The walk from the training deck to the dining room was easily one of the hardest tasks Keith ever had to do. Matching Lance’s and Shiro’s quick pace left his entire right leg, from his big toe to the top of his thigh, burning. The urge to limp was strong, but he didn’t. He pressed forward and managed to make it to the dining room without any questions from Lance and Shiro.

However, the mere sight of food left Keith’s already turning stomach flipping violently. He all but collapsed into his chair and nervously eyed the plate filled with food goo in front of him.

“Keith?”

The concern coloring Shiro’s tone had Keith meeting Shiro’s furrowed brows with an easy smile.

“I just thought if I stared hard enough that it would change into a giant slice of pizza.”

“Keith,” Lance whined, drawing out the name. “Why did you have to bring up pizza now of all times.”

The rest of the table fell into conversation with Lance and Hunk explaining to Coran and Allura what pizza was, and Keith absently pushed his food around as he pretended to listen to the conversation.

The words began to fall to deaf ears as the pain from his foot flared hot. He tried tapping it with his left foot and almost bent his spoon with how tightly he squeezed it from the pain.

He spent the rest of dinner breathing slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth to work through the pain and nausea, and finally, after twenty more minutes, Allura and Coran announced that they should call it a night.

Tonight was Shiro’s night to handle dishes, so Keith quietly excused himself to avoid questions as to why he didn’t eat and started towards his room.

Once he was sure no one was following, he sagged against a wall, panting harshly as sweat slipped down from his temples. The hallway floor was going in and out of focus, and he shook his head to try and chase away the dizziness.

He only had a short distance remaining until he got to his room, so he used the wall for support as he limped the last few feet. Each step brought blinding, searing pain, but soon enough, he was slumping against his closed bedroom door, swallowing down the bile threatening to crawl up his throat as his surroundings swayed.

He stayed like that minutes on end until everything seemed to still, and it was then that he became acutely aware of the sweat dripping from his hair and making his shirt cling uncomfortably to his back.

He eyed the bathroom with a sigh before pushing off the door, face scrunched up in pain, and starting toward the bathroom.

He made it about halfway in before his composure crumbled and he went down with it, collapsing into a heap to the tiled bathroom floor.

He gripped at his right ankle as tears slid freely down his cheeks. He felt stupid, pathetic. He wasn’t one to cry, but the pain was too much. Acting like he wasn’t in pain was too much. The mere thought of slowing the team down with a pitiful injury was too much.

A gasping sob slipped past his lips, and he dropped his head against his bent knee as his shoulders shook from crying.

“Keith?”

Keith froze and brought his gaze up to Lance’s worried one. He hadn’t heard the brunet walk in over his own sobbing, and the sight of the brunet’s creased forehead and wide, worried eyes did nothing but make him cry harder.

Lance was at his side in seconds, hands hovering over Keith. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Keith shook his head, sniffling loudly as tears slipped down his cheeks, and it was then that Lance caught attention to Keith’s hands wrapped around his right ankle.

“Are you hurt?” Lance asked slowly, motioning toward Keith’s ankle, and Keith nodded before dropping his forehead back against his knee as Lance shifted around.

Lance very carefully put hands on Keith’s right leg and tugged enough until Keith looked up and stretched his right leg out, dropping his right foot into Lance’s lap with a wince.

Lance then began the slow, grueling process of unlacing Keith’s boot and gently sliding the boot off and sock off. He sucked in a sharp hiss at the sight.

Keith’s ankle was incredibly swollen and colored in deep purples and blacks that spread across Keith’s entire foot.

“Shit, Keith. When did this happen?” Lance ghosted fingers across the swollen ankle, frowning deeply at the heat coating his fingers, and when he didn’t get a response from Keith right away, he glanced up, eyes growing wide.

Keith was as pale as a sheet as he numbly stared at his ankle.

“Woah. Are you going to pass out?”

Keith snapped back to attention. He swiped the back of his hands to his welling eyes and shook his head. “No,” he breathed out.

“Okay,” Lance said, deep in thought. “Okay,” he repeated, assessing the situation. “We should get you to a pod.”

Keith quickly shook his head in response. “Not yet,” he pressed desperately. “I,” he paused, sniffling, “I don’t want the others to see me like this.”

“Like what?” Lance questioned with a slight head tilt.

“Like this!” Keith shouted, motioning wildly to his face as tears began to spill from his eyes once more. “I don’t cry! This isn’t me!”

Lance’s face fell, and while being cautious of Keith’s foot, he leaned forward and wrapped long, slender arms around Keith’s trembling frame.

Keith melted into Lance’s arms, and he pressed his face against Lance’s neck as loud, frame-shaking sobs slipped past his lips once more.

Lance rubbed gingerly at Keith’s back for minutes on end until Keith settled.

“Better?” Lance asked, and Keith nodded tiredly. The exertion from walking on his sprained ankle and crying took a toll on him, and he found himself nodding off as Lance got to his feet.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Lance said softly, but before Keith could move to struggle to his feet, Lance scooped him up bridal style, prompting Keith to gasp.

“You’re strong,” Keith commented through clenched teeth thanks to the pain flaring from his ankle being jostled, and Lance’s face screwed up in mock offense.

“Of course I’m strong!” He placed Keith down ever so gently onto the bed, and moments later, he had Keith’s foot propped up and wrapped in bandages.

“You’re also good at this,” Keith said, voice barely above a whisper as sleep tugged at all corners.

“Perks of a big family,” Lance muttered as he studied his handiwork. “I should go get ice.”

Keith nodded, eyelids drooping closed.

“Will you be okay until I get back?”

Keith mumbled yes, and Lance started toward the door but stopped when Keith called out weakly.

“Thanks,” Keith said, and Lance smiled softly.

“Sure thing,” Lance called out fondly.


	27. Langst ft. Lance Losing His Voice

A small case of the sniffles was nothing to Lance. He worked through it with ease, but when he woke up two days later with a throat so raw and so sore that it brought tears to his eyes, he began to second guess himself.

However, he still tried to power through, but halfway through breakfast, his weak, raspy voice gave out entirely when he was in the middle of reassuring Shiro that he just had a small cold.

He tried to talk, but all that came out was a soft squeak that left him wincing.

“Just a cold, huh?” Keith asked, one eyebrow arched in a teasing manner.

Lance huffed and poked at his throat. He cleared his throat and tried once more to respond vocally, but it was helpless and quite painful.

“You better not,” Shiro warned. “You’ll only make it worse.” He held an index finger up to his mouth, motioning for Lance to keep quiet.

Lance sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. For the remainder of breakfast, he shoved his food around his plate with his fork as the others chattered around him as if nothing was wrong.

Once everyone finished, Allura suggested he spend the day in bed resting, and he tried to object but was shushed by the other four paladins.

“Lance, buddy,” Shiro started, voice soft and sympathetic. “You really should rest if your sick.”

Lance waved his arms about before hammering a fist against his puffed out chest.

The others looked on with confused expressions, all but Keith, who was getting to his feet with a loud sigh. “You aren’t fine, Lance, so stop trying to act like you are.”

Lance shot a piercing glare towards Keith, but a coughing fit tore up his throat seconds later, and he doubled over with a hand clamped against his mouth.

Shiro placed a hand on Lance’s trembling back. “Just take it easy, Lance.”

Tears sprung at the corners of Lance’s eyes as each cough grated against his throat, but after a solid minute, the coughing tampered off, leaving him panting heavily.

“Still think you’re fine?” Keith questioned harshly, but Shiro shot him a look that all but screamed “enough”.

Lance shrugged Shiro’s hand from his back and got to his feet. He offered a small wave before turning on his heel and starting toward his room with his head bowed, bangs masking his watering eyes.

He sped through each hallway despite his shaking legs until he was safely in his room with his door shut tight, and then he staggered to his bed and flopped down face first.

Silence fell around him like a suffocating sheet, with the only sounds coming from his muffled breathing against his pillow. His mind began to wander, and before he knew it, he was lost in the mental grips of his past.

He could hear his mother and father talking, and then he was responding, a beautiful mix of English and Spanish words bouncing excitedly off his tongue.

He remembered how his sister would always get annoyed when he spoke Spanish with his older brother and how his mom would scold the two for plotting in secret.

He remembered how once a month, the family would hold karaoke night, and he’d fight with his cousin for the mic majority of the evening. It almost always ended with the two shouting the lyrics to a song. The two believed that whoever was loudest was the best singer, so they would wear their voices out by belting out songs at the top of their lungs. 

The sound of his voice was clear in his mind, but after a while, it began to fade until he could no longer recall the pitch, the tone, the articulation. He was left with an image of himself with his mouth sewn shut, and before he knew it, he was turning his head to the side as tears spilled freely down his cheeks.

He came from a family of talkers. There was never a quiet moment in the house unless everyone was asleep. Everyone had their own, distinct voice, but he lost his.

What if he never gained his voice back? How would he greet his mother when he got back to Earth? How would he whisper out hushed Spanish words to his older brother so his little sister couldn’t understand? How would he maintain his karaoke king crown?

How would crack jokes among the paladins without a voice? How would he tease Keith without a voice?

How would he do anything without a voice? His voice was his identity, his primary form of expression, but now it was gone.

His mind was running a mile a minute, and the tears were falling twice as fast. His face was burning hot, and he allowed his eyes to slip closed just as sleep crept quietly in. 

*****

_A Galra squeezed at his throat harder, and harder, and harder, and harder…_

Lance jolted into a sitting position with a loud gasp. He clamped one hand around his throat as his chest heaved with ragged breaths.

“Jesus, Lance.”

He looked to his right, and it took his eyes a solid minute before the Galra solider sitting in a chair beside his bed faded away to Keith.

He opened his mouth, but Keith was quick to shake his head.

“No talking, remember?”

Lance nodded as his heart rate evened out. He could still faintly feel a ghost of the Galra’s slender fingers wrapped around his neck as he sagged back against his pillows.

“You’ve got a hell of a fever,” Keith said, voice flat but holding a slight hint of concern.

Lance pressed the back of a hand to his cheek, but it felt nothing but amazing to his icy hand. He frowned, mentally assessing how terrible he felt.

“I came in here to check on you, and you were thrashing around and sobbing. I tried to wake you, but you only responded by almost punching me in the face.”

Lance shot Keith an apologetic expression, but Keith waved it off.

“What the hell were you dreaming about?”

Lance motioned weakly to his throat, and Keith nodded and moved around the room until he came back with a pad of paper and a pen.

Lance took the items and began writing with trembling hands.

_A Galra was choking me! Literally squeezing the voice from my very throat! What am I going to do, Keith? What if I can never talk again? I NEED my voice, Keith! I just need it. I can barely remember how I sound. I don’t feel like myself without it._

He handed the pad of paper to Keith, but when Keith accepted it with a deep frown, Lance tilted his head in question until his mind caught up to the tears streaming down his cheeks. He rubbed at his eyes as Keith read the note.

“Lance,” Keith said slowly after a few moments. “You’ll probably have your voice back in a few days.”

Lance sniffled loudly and leaned up to snatch the paper from Keith.

_You don’t know that! What if this is some space virus that takes my voice away forever??_

Keith sighed when he read the note. “Then I’ll be your voice.”

Lance froze, eyes wide and glistening with tears. He opened his mouth but snapped it closed a second later. For once, he was speechless, not just because he had no voice.

“I know how much you love talking,” Keith pressed on quietly after a few moments. “I can’t promise that I’ll be as loud or as witty as you, but I’ll try.”

Lance shook his head as tears slipped freely from his eyes once more, and he sat up into a sitting position and motioned for Keith to come closer.

When Keith obliged, Lance pulled Keith into a strong hug, and after a few moments, Keith returned it, wrapping steady arms around Lance’s trembling frame.

Lance tilted his head until his mouth was brushed against Keith’s ear, and he rasped out a weak “thank you.” 


	28. Klance ft. Keith Claiming He's "Not Sick" Until He Can't Deny It Anymore

After the third sneeze, Lance frowned, removing his reading glasses and glancing up at Keith with furrowed brows.

“Are you getting sick?” Lance asked gently, and Keith sighed, rubbing gingerly at his nose with one hand as he shouldered his backpack with his other.

“No,” he said despite the obvious rasp coloring his tone. He pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache blooming from his temples.

“Sure,” Lance said, drawing out the word. He got to his feet and approached Keith, and when Keith looked up, he pressed a palm to Keith’s forehead. “Well, you aren’t feverish,” he said absently as his eyes studied Keith’s pale face and sunken eyes.

Keith smacked the brunet’s hand away. “Because I’m fine,” he pressed, only to turn away seconds later to sneeze four times into the crook of his elbow.

Lance nodded with one eyebrow arched high. “Yeah, okay,” he said, voice light and teasing. “You should take some precautions, though,” he added, voice adopting a serious tone. “It’s pretty cold, so you may want another jacket. And, the forecast called for rain, so you’ll want an umbrella.”

Keith massaged his temples as Lance rattled on and on.

“Oh! And you better not go to the gym after class. You should come straight back to rest, and-”

Keith held a hand up, cutting the brunet off. “Lance,” he started, voice low and tired. “I’m fine, okay? I’ll be fine, so I don’t need your mother hen business right now.” He sniffled, rubbing once more at his nose to try and fend off the tickle hinting at another round of sneezes.

Lance seemed hesitant to agree, but he nodded anyway despite sporting an expression that was the spitting image of concern. “If you’re sure,” he said, voice soft, worried.

Keith cupped Lance’s cheek and offered a smile. “I’m sure,” he replied easily, and the two stayed like that for a moment before Lance’s lips finally curled up into a smile.

“I’m off,” Keith said, dropping his hand. “I’ll see you later tonight?”

“I have a lab, so I may be late,” Lance informed, and Keith nodded, muttering out a quick “I love you” as he turned on his heel and started toward the door.

*****

Regret, Keith thought, was not going along with Lance’s recommend precautions. He struggled through four classes, shivering desperately as ice clung to every inch of skin. His headache from that morning had intensified to blinding levels, and he couldn’t go five seconds without sneezing or coughing wet, harsh coughs that grated against his raw throat.

Twice Lance had texted and asked how he was, and both times, he had replied that he was perfectly fine. He couldn’t tell Lance how poorly he was feeling; the stubborn part of his personality was unwilling to admit he was wrong. Plus, he knew how important Lance’s bio lab was, and he didn’t want to interrupt it.

So, he opted to suffer through, but after the fourth class, he couldn’t do it anymore. His limbs were aching fiercely, and whether or not that was from the shivering or something else, he wasn’t sure. All he wanted to do was go back to his and Lance’s apartment and sleep, preferably for forever.

He shot a quick text to Shiro saying he was passing on their evening workout and then walked out of the campus building. He nervously eyed the dark storm clouds growing overhead as he quickened his pace, but seconds later, a loud crack of thunder sounded across the sky and was followed by a downpour of large, icy drops that left Keith soaked in seconds.

Cursing under his breath, Keith hunched his shoulders and wrapped shaking arms around himself as he fought against the rain toward his apartment. Three times he was forced to stop as strong coughing fits left him doubled over with his hands braced against his knees, and twice he had to find a wall to lean against to wait out the dizziness clouding his vision.

By the time he made it to his apartment, he was teetering dangerously with each step. He dropped his backpack to the ground with a loud thud, shed his drenched clothes in favor of warm, dry ones from the bedroom dresser and curled into bed, falling asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

*****

When Lance found the apartment door unlocked, he frowned, and when he pushed it open only to have it stop after hitting something hard, his frown deepened. He squeezed through the small space, eyes falling onto Keith’s backpack dropped in front of the door.

His gaze shifted to the pile of sopping wet clothes in the middle of the living room, and he toed them with his boot.

Shaking his head, he dropped his bag quietly onto the couch and started toward the bedroom, pushing the cracked door open carefully. The light filtering in from the hallway illuminated Keith’s flushed cheeks and shivering frame, and Lance cursed under his breath as he closed the distance between the two.

“Keith,” he called out softly, voice laced with worry, as he brushed Keith’s sweat-soaked bangs to the side in order to press a palm to Keith’s forehead. The heat was alarming, and Lance jerked his hand back with a hiss.

“Keith,” he pressed, louder, firmer, and Keith stirred with a groan.

Keith blinked until the haziness clouding his vision faded enough to where he could make out Lance’s wide, worried eyes hovering over him. He opened his mouth to say something, but a coughing fit took the place of words, and he clamped a hand over his mouth, coughing harsh, lung-rattling coughs just as Lance helped him into a sitting position.

“Keith, what the fuck?” Lance asked sharply as he rubbed up and down Keith’s back. He didn’t understand how Keith went from a few sneezes here and there to a raging fever accompanied with wet, barking coughs in the matter of a few hours.

When the fit passed, Keith rubbed weakly at his chest as he fell back into a shivering, panting heap against Lance’s sturdy frame.  

“It just got worse,” Keith wheezed out in between gasping breaths, and Lance tensed behind him.

“You walked home in the rain,” Lance said, voice low, and Keith nodded tiredly.

“I started feeling bad. I left early, and it started to rain.” Each word was a struggle for Keith, but he managed, coughing weakly into his fist.

“When did you start feeling bad?” Lance questioned slowly, and Keith answered with “as soon as I got to school” before he realized the mistake. 

Lance stood, and Keith had to catch himself on his elbows to keep from falling all the way back just as Lance spun on his heel, jabbing a finger toward Keith’s direction.

“You said you were fine,” Lance spit out harshly. “And now look at you,” he added, motioning wildly toward Keith.

“Lance,” Keith tried, but Lance stormed out of the room, returning minutes later with a handful of supplies.

“I asked you twice, and you said you were okay,” Lance grumbled, but before Keith could reply, he shoved a thermometer into Keith’s mouth.

The two waited in tense silence until the device beeped. Lance snatched it up, and his pinched, angry face dropped into downright concern at the 103.2 reading blinking up at him.

“Shit” he breathed out, voice shaking, as he pressed a palm to Keith’s forehead once more as if he could further confirm the reading by touch alone.

When Keith cleared his throat, Lance held the thermometer up enough to where Keith could read it.

“Shit,” Keith repeated, and Lance sighed, dropping down against the edge of the bed.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have picked you up, brought you an umbrella, literally anything,” Lance said, eyeing Keith with somber eyes.

Keith looked away, absently pulling at a loose thread in the blanket draped over him. “I didn’t want you to miss lab,” he tried, but when Lance quickly countered with “bullshit,” Keith knew what he needed to say.

“I didn’t want to admit I was wrong and you were right,” he whispered, and Lance breathed out a weak, harsh laugh.

“Why are you so ridiculous?” Lance asked with a shake of the head. “Was it worth it?” He added, gesturing toward Keith being laid up in bed.

Keith shook his head with a strong cough, and Lance’s shoulders sagged. He got off the bed, grabbing the cool, damp hand towel he brought in before reclaiming his spot. He leaned over and draped the towel against Keith’s forehead, but when he went to lean back, Keith grabbed his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Keith muttered. “I should have listened to you this morning. I shouldn’t have lied.” His voice was coming out in low wheezes, but Lance caught every word, and he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to Keith’s lips.

“You know how we started that rule game when we first started dating,” he asked as he pulled away, and Keith frowned but nodded, turning his face away to cough harshly.

“So new rule,” he continued. “You have to tell me when you aren’t well. Don’t try to hide it. Please?”

Lance’s voice was soft, pleading, and Keith could only nodded in response.

“Good,” Lance said, lips curling up into a gentle smile. “Now, let’s get you better, okay?”

Keith breathed out a weak “okay” while wondering how he managed to capture the heart of the most beautiful boy in the universe.


	29. Keith and Lance Stranded ft. Lance Sick

The heat was suffocating, or at least, that was what Keith thought. He tugged at his shirt collar with one hand while he desperately fanned himself with the other. He had long since shed his jacket and tied his hair up, but it wasn’t enough.

No matter how far they walked, they couldn’t escape the sun. They must’ve walked two miles, but there wasn’t a single tree in sight.

To Keith’s surprise, Lance hadn’t uttered a single complaint since they wound up stranded on this remote planet, and now that Keith has had time to think about it, the brunet had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire day thus far.

He glanced back with one eyebrow arched to see Lance treading along behind him with his jacket still on and his hands hugging his elbows tightly.

Keith stopped and turned around fully, staring Lance down with narrow eyes. “You’re going to overheat,” he pressed firmly, and Lance looked up in surprise.

“Overheat?” Lance asked slowly, blinking in confusion.

Frowning, Keith waved a hand around. “Yes, overheat. It’s like 100 degrees out here.” He made a show of swiping the sweat dripping from his forehead to drive home his point. “You should take your jacket off because I’m not going to carry your ass if you keel over from heat stroke or something.”

Lance’s forehead creased deeply, and he tilted his head. “But, it’s cold.”

Keith opened his mouth, counter-argument hot on his tongue, but he snapped it closed upon a closer inspection of Lance. Even from the small distance, he could see the deep red flush painted high on Lance’s cheeks, a stark contrast to his pale, washed-out complexion. And with a broad overview, he could see Lance shivering lightly.

Keith closed the small distance between the two with a few, large steps. Once he was standing in front of Lance, he pressed a hesitant palm to the brunet’s forehead, only to jerk his hand back with a loud hiss. “You’re on fire,” he spit out, voice harsh and uneven.

Lance shook his head, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to wrap his mind around words. “No,” he finally managed out weakly. “I’m cold,” he pressed, shivering hard for emphasis.

Keith rocked back on his heels, gnawing lightly at his thumb nail as he wracked his mind for a solution to this very obvious problem. One quick glance around told him that there was still nothing in sight for miles. The two were trapped in a vast desert with nothing but the clothes on their backs and the few rations in Keith’s backpack.

He knew it shouldn’t be long before Pidge and Hunk worked around the shielding force that was hiding their location, but he wasn’t sure how much time Lance had.

“Keith,” Lance whispered, and Keith snapped his attention back toward the brunet, frowning at how pale Lance had gotten in the few seconds. 

“I think I feel hot now,” Lance breathed out just as his eyes rolled back.

Keith jolted forward just as Lance collapsed into a lifeless heap against his chest.

“Fuck,” he spit out, voice shaking. He spared another glance around, but just like last time, there was nothing except cracked desert terrain for miles.

“Fuck,” he repeated as panic swelled within his chest. He tried shaking Lance awake, but the brunet was out like the dead.

His mind began working in overdrive, and he carefully eased Lance onto the ground. He then untied the jacket from his waist and spread it over the ground before tugging his shirt off and doing the same, leaving his upper body exposed to raging sun.

Moving Lance onto the makeshift bed was a struggle for the brunet was practically dead-weight, but soon enough, Keith had Lance lying on top of the jacket and shirt. He then pulled Lance up with one hand and worked the jacket off the brunet with the other. That, too, proved to be difficult, but he didn’t want to leave the jacket on because Lance was already hot enough as it was.

He momentarily tossed Lance’s jacket aside before reaching for his abandoned backpack. There were two water bottles. It was going to be a stretch depending on how long it took the others to find them, but Keith was going to do whatever he needed to do.

He snaked an arm around Lance’s back and pushed him up once more before tilting one of the water bottles to the brunet’s partially open lips.

Things were significantly harder when one member of the party was unconscious, but Keith managed to get a few sips of water into Lance. Once he eased the brunet back down, he squinted at the merciless sun beating down on them, and it took a few seconds before his mind supplied the answer in the form of Lance’s forgotten jacket.

Keith stood, grabbed the jacket, then positioned himself above Lance, holding the jacket up to shade the brunet from the boiling sun.

The next four hours were spent alternating between shading Lance and offering the unconscious brunet water. Keith’s upper body was burning horribly, but he never faltered because Lance needed him. 

Lance remained unconscious the entire time, and Keith was growing desperate as he held the second of the two water bottles to Lance’s lips. They had half a bottle left, hours still until the sun set, and no way of knowing when the others were going to come get them.

Occasional forehead touches told Keith that Lance was still boiling, maybe even more so than before, and Keith was just thinking that he was running out of ideas when Lance stirred underneath his touch. 

Keith quickly eased Lance down before shifting around until he was kneeling beside the brunet. “Lance,” he tried, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.

Lance cracked his eyes open, wincing as the sun assaulted his eyes. He shifted his gaze to see Keith staring at him with wide, worried eyes. “Keith?”

Lance’s voice was a weak rasp that left Keith frowning. He smoothed a palm across Lance’s forehead. “Hey,” he began, doing his best to keep his voice confident. “You passed out, but you are going to be just fine.”

Lance breathed out a low sigh. His eyelids drooped closed once more, and Keith thought the brunet passed out again, but Lance suddenly cleared his throat.

“You can have it,” he whispered, eyes still shut tight, and Keith leaned closer, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Have what?” He questioned, brushing Lance’s hair back some.

“My face mask,” Lance croaked out, lips teasing up into a smile. He pried his eyes open. “You definitely need it.”

Keith shook his head and breathed out a light laugh. “I’m not going to use your damn mask,” he hissed out.

“Not even if I die?”

Keith froze, hand halting from where he was leaned over and combing his fingers through Lance’s hair. “You aren’t going to die.” He said firmly.

Lance shrugged weakly. “At least the last thing I’ll see is you shirtless.” His lips were still curled into a smile, and he moved his eyes up and down Keith’s abs. “It’s a nice way to go.”

Keith pulled his hand back and placed it on Lance’s shoulder. “You are not going to die, Lance.” But, as he said it, Lance’s eyes closed and his head tilted to the left, and the brunet made no signs of waking up once more when Keith shook him.

Keith’s eyes brimmed with tears just as a loud, rumbling sound came from above them. The two soon became shaded as the castle blocked the sun. 

He tried once more to shake Lance, but the brunet was lifeless under his touch, and soon enough, tears were streaming freely down his cheeks. “I’ll use the damn mask,” he breathed out, voice cracking as tears dropped down onto Lance’s pale, still face.

*****

Keith twirled his finger around the cream caked in the small jar in his hands. The substance was cool and thick, and he frowned at the texture.

“This is disgusting,” he muttered.

“But it will make your skin glow like mine!”

Keith narrowed his eyes into an annoyed glare.

The events following the two being stranded on the desert planet had been touch and go. Coran and Allura had worked day and night for three days until Lance finally woke up.

While this was going on, Keith had been locked into a pod to heal his severely burned upper body, and he had all but collapsed to the ground in a teary-eyed heap when Lance had welcomed him when the pod finally opened.

“I don’t want to use the damn mask, Lance,” Keith pressed when Lance pursed his lips into a pout.

Lance dipped his fingers into the jar before leaning forward to smooth the cool the cream across Keith’s cheek.

Keith shivered at the contact but allowed it all the same– anything to keep the lively glimmer shining in Lance’s eyes. 


	30. Sick Pidge ft. The Real MVP Bro Lance

Things people won’t tell you: cats aren’t always as cute as people say they are, learning to drive is much more fun when you don’t have an actual car and can bum rides from a friend, and high school is a bitch when you’re an honor’s student.

Pidge was in a love/hate relationship with her cat, regularly bummed rides to school from Lance, and was currently trying to work through a bad stomach virus because she couldn’t afford to miss any of her AP classes despite being ahead in all of them.

Combine lack of sleep with a cramping stomach, and you were left with one incredibly cranky Pidge.

She sat on her front step, waiting with an arm pressed against her stomach for Lance to pick her up for school. When his blue Prius pulled up, she struggled to her feet and swung her bag over her shoulder as she shuffled into his car.

“Good morning,” Lance chirped loudly, and Pidge groaned in response as she pulled the car door shut with a loud slam.

Lance arched a brow. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he commented as he put the car into drive.

“Or didn’t because she didn’t sleep because of an AP History paper.” Pidge griped out through clenched teeth.

Lance shook his head as the rolled up to a red light. Once stopped, he turned to Pidge. “We’ve talked about the whole not sleeping thing,” he pressed, but Pidge waved off his comment.

“You talked. I listened. No agreements were made.” Her stomach was twisting painfully, and she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Dropping her cheek onto a bent knee, she watched a woman walking her dog just as the light turned green.

Once Lance picked up speed, Pidge was forced to squeeze her eyes shut for the blurring houses passing by outside the window were doing nothing but further irritating her stomach.

Her heart began to hammer quickly against her chest just as heat prickled uncomfortably across her skin. Lance had the heat blasting due to the frigid outdoor temperature, but it left Pidge sweating and feeling increasingly nauseous.

By the time Lance pulled into a parking spot in the school lot, Pidge’s entire body was trembling, and she had her lips pressed tightly shut as she swallowed down bile that crept up her throat.

“Pidge?” Lance asked carefully. “Are you okay?”

Pidge shook her head, and seconds later, Lance was out of his seat and pulling her door open with a deep frown.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, crouching down until he was eye level with Pidge. “You look really pale.”

Pidge’s stomach lurched, and she fumbled around to unbuckle her seat belt. When she heard the click, she shoved the belt up and away while clamping her free hand over her mouth, but when she swung her legs over to get out of the car, she found Lance still blocking the way.

Realization washed over Lance’s face, but before he had time to move, Pidge heaved, and she weakly dropped her hand and gave into the churning stomach that left her retching all over Lance’s torso and legs.

Lance gasped as Pidge heaved all over him, and he jumped away with wide eyes.

Pidge continued retching onto the pavement for a solid minute. Passing students were making disgusted noises, and Lance was quick to step back closer to Pidge to block her from the view of other assholes.

When her stomach settled, what remaining energy she had vanished, and she found herself falling toward the pavement, but Lance quickly stopped her with hands to her shoulders.

He could feel the heat pouring off of her even through her thick coat, and his forehead creased in worry as he helped her back into the car.

For Pidge, her surroundings were blurring in and out of focus as she struggled to wrap her mind around a coherent thought, which was difficult thanks to a pounding headache blooming up from her temples. Her entire body was trembling despite feeling hot, and she rolled her head to the side to see Lance hovering over her while covered in vomit.

“Shit!” She sat up quickly and eyed Lance with wide, apologetic eyes. “Shit, Lance! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-”

Lance cut her off by pushing her bangs up and pressing a palm to her forehead, confirming the obvious fever she was running.

“You’re really sick,” Lance said, pressing a palm to his own forehead to further confirm the temperature difference. “You need to be in bed.”

“I can’t,” Pidge tried, but when she weakly moved to try and get our of the car, Lance stopped her.

“Whatever it is you have to do can wait,” Lance pressed. “You are literally the smartest kid in school. I’m sure your teachers will understand.”

Pidge’s shoulders deflated in defeat, and she fell back against the seat, wrapping one arm around her stomach to try and fend off the dull ache hinting at another round of vomiting.

Lance closed the passenger door and quickly moved to the driver’s side. He hopped in and closed the door before jamming his keys back into the ignition. “Matt’s not home, is he?”

Pidge shook her head. Matt and her father had gone on a research trip and wouldn’t be back for a few days, and her mother was at work. She would be home alone until the evening.

“Great,” Lance said as he pulled out of the parking spot. “I always liked your shower better than mine anyway.”

Pidge glanced toward the vomit covering Lance with tired eyes. “I really am sorry,” she muttered as the dull ache in her stomach increased to a painful cramp.

“It’s totally fine. I’m used to this with all my siblings,” he said, but when he stole a glance toward Pidge and saw her fidgeting in her seat, he frown and stepped harder on the gas. “Just try to hold it til we get back to your house, okay?”

Pidge nodded and curled in on herself. There weren’t many times when she preferred Lance’s company, but in certain situations, the brunet knew how to step up to the plate. And right now, she was grateful that this ordeal happened with him and no one else.

She was confident that had she accidentally thrown up on Keith or Shiro, they would have made a big show of running to the bathroom as if their lives depended on it.


	31. "You're So Sick You Literally Fell Down the Stairs..." ft. Klance

Lance never realized how much he’d learn about Keith ‘Mean-mug’ Kogane just from having a lab desk beside him. He learned that Keith had a best friend named Shiro; did not care whatsoever to the mullet stuck to his head; desperately wanted a dog but his landlord wouldn’t allow it; and was, as of right this second, seemingly very sick.

Keith had spent the better part of the day stifling sneezes and coughing wet, harsh coughs into the crook of his elbow, but even then, he still answered every question as if he truly loved Chemistry II.

Lance admired Keith’s determined demeanor despite sounding as if he should be home resting, and he vowed to finally talk to Keith and compliment his determination after class. But, as luck would have it, he got stuck in a conversation with the teacher while everyone else left for the campus dorms.

Lance rushed the teacher along and only ended up leaving a few minutes after everyone else. He passed by a window in the hallway and could see many of the other students down on the sidewalk, but Keith was nowhere in sight. Lance took this as a victory as he raced toward the stairs, hoping to catch up with the Keith before he left the building.

When Lance rounded the corner that opened up to the stairs, he froze. Keith was about halfway down but was stopped and leaning heavily against the banister.

Just as Lance opened his mouth to call out, Keith’s legs gave away, and he went tumbling down the remaining seven steps.

“Shit!” Lance took the steps two at a time as he raced down just as Keith crumpled into a painful heap at the bottom of the staircase.

By the time Lance reached Keith, Keith was already pushing himself up on trembling arms.

“Holy shit, Keith! Are you okay?” Lance’s hands hovered over Keith, unsure if touching would either overstep boundaries or bring further pain to ill boy. 

Frowning, Keith moved his face toward the voice, and the sight of Lance left him blinking in surprise. “Lance… From Chemistry..”

Lance winced at the painful rasp that was Keith’s voice, and he matched the frown Keith was sporting as he took in the flush high on Keith’s cheekbones that drastically stood out against his washed out complexion.

“Are you okay?” Lance repeated as he shifted his gaze for any obvious physical injuries.

“Oh yeah,” Keith began. “I’m fine. Just got a little dizzy.”

With his forehead creased in concern, Lance hesitantly placed a palm to Keith’s forehead, only to jerk it away with a sharp hiss at the heat. “Fuck! You’re burning up!”

Keith shook his head and struggled to his feet, but the second he was standing, his lungs crackled and left him doubled over in a harsh coughing fit.

Lance was already standing beside Keith, and he placed a cautious hand to Keith’s back until he finished.

“God, I’m sorry,” Keith wheezed out as he straightened his back. “It’s just a small cold. I’m fine.”

Lance never thought he’d meet anyone lacking in self-preservation skills as much as him, and yet here he was, standing in front of a boy trying to pass off some nasty virus as a ‘small cold’.

He arched a brow and crossed his arms just as Keith swayed and stumbled to catch his footing. “Just a small cold?”

Keith nodded just as he turned away to sneeze into the crook of his elbow. Sniffling, he massaged his temples as he brought his attention back toward Lance. “Yeah. I’m just going to head back to the dorms and get some rest.” He started toward the exit, but the room tilted, and he felt himself tilting along with it. He would have collapsed to the floor if Lance hadn’t caught him.

“You’re so sick you literally just fell down the stairs!” Lance shouted, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around Keith’s waist while he wildly waved the other one. “I’m not going to let you walk to the dorms by yourself!”

When Keith looked at him with furrowed brows, Lance sighed, breathing deeply to recapture his composure.

“I know we aren’t close, but I care about you enough that I don’t want you to get run over!”

“I wouldn’t get run over,” Keith tried, but even as he said it, dark spots danced across his vision.

“Keith,” Lance pressed, voice pleading. “Please just let me walk you back to your dorm.”

“But I live in Galra, and you live in Altea.”

The two dorm buildings were on opposite sides of the campus, and Lance was about to reassure that it was fine but stopped suddenly.

“How did you know that I live in the Altea dorms?”

Lance wasn’t sure it was possible, but the flush coloring Keith’s cheeks deepened significantly, but he opted to peg it on the worsening fever for now.

“Nevermind,” he said, starting toward the door with a steady arm still wrapped around Keith’s waist. “Let’s get you back.”

Keith seemed hesitant but matched Lance’s slow, careful steps. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“I am absolutely sure,” Lance said just as the two walked out of the building.


	32. "I Always Take Care of You and Never Catch It, But Now I Have But Don't Want to Say..." ft. Klance

Lance had a weak immune system, but luckily, he was blessed with a patient, healthy boyfriend who always went above and beyond to help him get better.

Keith was used to Lance’s shit immune system by now, and he had developed a routine when the brunet got sick.

Keith knew that Lance liked his tea boiling hot and with a smidge of honey. He knew that the brunet enjoyed cuddles until he fell asleep, and he knew that Lance needed constant reassurance that he would be fine.

When Lance came down with a nasty flu that was spreading through his biology class like wildfire, Keith was at the brunet’s beck and call.

For two days, Keith tended to Lance, but on the third day, he started to feel off. It started as a small tickle at the back of his throat, but hours later, it had morphed into a pounding headache accompanied with heavy, aching limbs and inconsistent chills.

Since they began dating, Keith had never caught an illness from Lance, and he took pride in the fact that he could provide his boyfriend with everything he needed without worrying about catching the illness.

So, when his mind caught up to the fact that he was currently fighting under the grips of Lance’s flu, he opted to stay silent and tough it out. He had an amazing track record of not getting sick; plus, he knew that telling Lance would wreck the brunet, who was currently struggling through a fever spike.

“More tea,” Keith announced as he walked into the bedroom with a mug gripped tightly between trembling fingers. His voice came out as a weak rasp, and quietly cleared his throat as he moved toward the bed.

Lance was propped up into a sitting position and absently scrolling through his phone, but when Keith spoke, he snapped his attention toward the rough voice.

“Are you okay?” Lance asked as he accepted the mug Keith held out to him.

Keith could have verbally cursed Lance’s keen attention to detail, but he kept his face cool and smooth and shot the brunet soft smile. “Yep,” he said, taking a spot on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand atop Lance’s covered knee and studied the brunet’s flushed, sweaty cheeks with a frown. “Are _you_ okay?”

Lance sipped lightly at the piping hot tea before he nodded. “I think my fever is finally going down again.”

Keith leaned closer to press a palm to Lance’s forehead. The heat beneath his hand was prominent, but it did not seem as warm as it had been a few hours before.

“I think you’re right,” Keith said, sliding his hand down to Lance’s cheek. “You are still too warm, but it feels slightly cooler then before.”

Lance tensed under Keith’s touch, prompting Keith to pull his hand away quickly.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned with furrowed brows.

“You look really pale,” Lance said slowly with narrow eyes.

Sighing deeply, Keith got to his feet. “I’m fine, Lance. Really.”

Lance didn’t seem convinced, but the tea was lulling him to sleep. Keith took the mug and helped Lance into a reclined position.

“You’ll tell me if you are feeling sick.” Lance commanded, voice soft and quiet.

“Of course,” Keith replied, and seconds later, Lance was out, chest rising and falling steadily.

With Lance asleep, Keith’s body visibly sagged as he shuffled toward the living room. The chills from before were replaced with prickling heat, and his surroundings were swaying in slow, unstable waves. He just barely made it to the couch before everything went black.

*****

“Keith, please wake up!”

Lance’s frantic, pleading voice pierced through Keith’s slumber, and his eyes shot open just as he jerked into a sitting position.

He opened his mouth, prepared to question the brunet, but all that came out were harsh, wet coughs that felt like knives against his dry, raw throat.

“You’re sick,” Lance said lowly, taking a spot on the couch beside Keith and rubbing a hand up and down Keith’s back, 

With one hand cupped over his mouth, Keith shook his head as a few more smaller, weaker coughs slipped past his lips.

“No,” Keith breathed out in between coughs, but Lance ignored him.

“I got you sick,” Lance pressed with a deep frown. He moved a hand to Keith’s cheek. “You’re burning.”

Again, Keith shook his head when he shifted his gaze to Lance’s downcast eyes. “No, really, I’m okay,” he tried, but his mouth snapped shut when Lance suddenly jumped to his feet.

“Stop! You _are_ sick! It took me five minutes just to wake you up!”

Keith got to his feet, ignoring his protesting limbs and throbbing head, and cupped Lance’s overly-warm cheek. “It’s fine,” he said, keeping his voice smooth and calm to counter Lance’s wide, welling eyes. “I’ll admit I’m sick, but this isn’t your fault.”

“It is though! You clearly caught my flu!”

Cool tears began hitting Keith’s hand, and he could do nothing but pull Lance into a crushing hug. He placed a hand to the back of Lance’s head as the latter gripped tightly at the back of his shirt while sniffling against his neck.

For two minutes, Keith absently muttered soft reassurances while Lance fought against shuddering sobs to regain his composure. With each passing second, Keith could see the room around him growing darker, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be standing. But finally, Lance pulled away.

“Shit,” Lance breathed out as soon as he pushed away from Keith. He quickly guided Keith back down to the couch upon seeing Keith’s ghostly pale face blinking back at him. He crouched down in front of Keith and waited for Keith to regain his focus.

Keith spent minutes blinking away the darkness threatening to coat his vision, and once he could see clearly and didn’t feel he was at risk of passing out, he met Lance’s worried eyes.

“I think I’m going to go back to sleep,” he said, already moving to lie back down onto his side onto the couch. “You should do the same.” He felt completely void of energy, and sleep was tugging at every corner. He wasn’t used to this whole “sick” thing, and he was hating every second of it. He felt exhausted, weak, and overall helpless.

He was just about to fall asleep when he felt pressure on the couch cushions, and he cracked an eye open to see Lance slotting himself tightly against Keith’s chest.

The couch wasn’t nearly big enough to fit the two, so Keith was quick to wrap arms around Lance’s back to ensure the brunet doesn’t fall off.

“I’m sorry I got you sick,” Lance muttered against Keith’s chest, and Keith breathed out a light, fond laugh.

“Shut up.”


	33. Klance ft. Sick Lance Hitting His Head on the Car Dashboard With Panicked Keith Driving

It was supposed to be an innocent trip to the movies– a date night because the two had been horribly busy over the last two weeks.

Keith picked Lance up around seven and was surprised to see the latter looking incredibly pale and bundled up in a coat despite the early fall temperatures.

“You’re sick,” Keith said flatly as Lance eased himself into the passenger seat. His hands gripped tightly around the wheel, but he kept his eyes trained on the brunet.

“I’m okay,” Lance said, but seconds later, he had to turn away to cough harshly into the crook of his elbow.

“Lance-”

“I said I’m fine,” Lance muttered out tiredly as a few, weaker coughs slipped past his lips. “Yeah I’m a little sick, but I haven’t seen you in two weeks, Keith. I want to spend time with you.”

Sighing, Keith leaned toward Lance and brushed a hand against the brunet’s too warm cheek. “We can spend the night in. We don’t have to go out.”

Lance shook his head. “We agreed on a proper date night. Let’s just go. I’ll be fine.”

Keith was reluctant, but he couldn’t counter Lance’s stubbornness. He put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking spot he was in.

The drive to the movies normally only took around ten minutes, but Keith was fifteen minutes in. He was keeping his speed limit five under to avoid any pot holes, or the like, that could potentially irritate Lance, who was shivering and sniffling in the seat beside him.

While waiting for a light to turn green, Lance suddenly began shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and Keith glanced toward the brunet with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned as Lance struggled with the buttons of his coat.

“I got hot suddenly,” Lance said as he moved shaking hands down button after button.

Keith turned his attention back toward the road just as the light turned green. He pressed down on the gas while blindly reaching to turn the heat dial down.

“I really think we should just go back to my place, Lance,” Keith started, while keeping his eyes on the road. “You are definitely running a fever.”

The silence that followed had Keith stealing a glance toward Lance, and he screamed out a curse just as Lance fell forward and knocked his head hard against the dashboard.

“Lance!” Keith’s eyes were rapidly darting from the road to his unconscious boyfriend, but he must of kept his gaze on Lance for a little too long because next thing he knew, he was headed straight for a light pole.

The impact was quick. Keith could feel his seatbelt dig into his skin as his body jerked forward. The loud crunch of metal was almost deafening to his ears, but none of that mattered. As soon as the car was fully stopped, with smoke billowing up from the hood, Keith was practically ripping his seatbelt off to get to Lance.

Lance was lifelessly slumped over. The seatbelt did its job, but there was still blood dripping from Lance’s head from when he hit it seconds earlier.

Keith gently shook the brunet, wincing at the heat seeping through the long sleeve shirt, but Lance didn’t stir.

Panic began to take hold, and Keith bolted out of car to see a few pedestrians approaching him.

“Sir, are you okay?”

“We’ve already called an ambulance.”

Shaking his head, Keith struggled for words, so he silently motioned toward Lance. “My boyfriend,” he finally managed through ragged breaths. “He-”

The faint sound of sirens echoing from a distance left Keith snapping his mouth shut, and he just shook his head before staggering toward the passenger side of the car. He yanked the door open and fell to his knees.

Placing shaking hands atop Lance’s legs, he desperately called out for the brunet just as the sound of sirens grew louder and louder.

*****

When Lance groaned, Keith shot up from his slumped over position over Lance’s hospital bed.

“Lance?” Keith questioned sharply as he gripped one of Lance’s hands between both of his. “Are you with me?”

Lance blinked slowly until his surrounding came into view. “This isn’t the movies,” he weakly rasped out, and Keith responded with a low laugh.

“Not quite,” he said as he brought Lance’s hands to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“What the fuck happened?” Lance asked as he brought his free hand up to his head with a wince

Keith tightened his grip over Lance’s hand. “You passed out and hit your head on the dashboard while I was driving us to the movies. I got distracted and drove into a light pole.”

Lance tensed at the words, and despite Keith’s sudden protests, he struggled into a sitting position with narrow eyes.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice low and serious, and Keith could slap the brunet on the back of the head.

“Do I look like I’m hurt? You are the one lying in a hospital bed.” He paused to motion toward the small screen that was tracking Lance’s vitals. “Do you see that 103.4 number? That’s your temperature right now, and you can add a concussion to that.”

Lance only spared a short glance to the screen before turning back to Keith, eyes scanning all over his boyfriend. “You aren’t hurt at all?”

Sighing, Keith tugged at his shirt collar to reveal a small part of the deep black and purple bruise from his seatbelt. “Just this.”

Lance frowned deeply. “That looks bad.”

“It’s a typical injury for head-on collisions. I’ll take this bruise over being thrown out the window. You’ve got one too.” Keith gestured toward Lance’s chest, and the brunet poked at his own chest, wincing at the pain.

“Ow,” Lance whispered as he dropped his eyes to the bed. “Is your car totaled?”

Keith dropped Lance’s hand and got to his feet with a loud sigh. “Is that all you care about?”

“You love that car-”

“I love you!” Keith shouted back, pointing a shaking finger toward the brunet. “I don’t give a fuck about me or the car! All I care about is you!”

His chest was heaving as his heart hammered against his chest, and without even realizing, he began pacing quickly back and forth the small room, only to stop at the hushed “I’m sorry” that followed his shouts.

Keith moved back toward the bed and leaned over to plant a firm kiss to Lance’s lips– illness be damned.

“No, I’m sorry for yelling,” he said, pressing his forehead against Lance’s overly warm one. “I was worried.”

“I’m okay now,” Lance whispered back, bringing a gentle hand to the back of Keith’s neck.

Keith pulled back just enough to meet Lance’s bright, feverish eyes. “You better be.”


	34. Keith with Appendicitis

When Keith woke to a dull throb in the middle of his abdomen a few days earlier, he pegged it on lack of sleep mixed with poor appetite and went to class.

However, three days later, and instead of getting better like he had hoped, he was getting worse. The dull throb had spread from the middle of his stomach to the lower-right side, and it didn’t take a genius to know that that was where the appendix was located.

But, appendicitis was rare. At least, that’s what Keith told himself when he struggled out of bed to get ready for class. He was most likely dealing with some shit strain of the flu, but he couldn’t miss class, not with midterms approaching.

He tossed a hoodie and a pair of sweats on and crammed his feet into the closest pair of boots before shouldering his backpack.

“No breakfast?” Lance questioned with a frown as Keith moved toward the door.

“Not hungry,” Keith called over his shoulder as he turned the doorknob.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you eat in like three days,” Lance pressed, abandoning his bowl of cereal in favor of catching his boyfriend before he could bolt out the door.

He hooked a finger around Keith’s backpack strap and tugged hard until the latter was stumbling around to face him.

Lance moved his eyes slowly across Keith’s face. The latter was paler than usual and slightly flushed, but before he could press further with questions, Keith stepped forward and planted a firm kiss to his lips.

“I’m fine,” Keith mumbled when he pulled away, but Lance’s frown only deepened.

“You’re warm,” he muttered. With Keith’s face so close to his, he could feel the heat rolling off his boyfriend, and it was doing nothing but heightening his worry.

Keith’s lips curled up into a half-smile. “Because I just woke up,” he lied easily. “Now are you going to let me go to class?”

Lance nodded, but his face remained pinched in concern. “Call me if you need me. I don’t have class today, so I’ll be here.”

Keith offered a nod before spinning on his heel and exiting the apartment.

*****

By Keith’s third class, he was panicking. The pain in his right side was searing yet he was shivering as if every other part of his body was covered in slick ice.

Twice he considered calling Lance, but he only had one more class to get through til he could get home and sleep off whatever the hell this was.

He barely made it through his final class. He spent the entire time hunched over with one arm pressed tightly across his lower stomach while strong shivers coursed through his body. His classmates shot him worried glances, and he was forced to step in to say he’d be fine when he overheard one mentioning calling Lance.

When class finally dismissed, he grabbed his backpack and bolted out of his seat. The walk to his and Lance’s apartment was only a five minute walk from the building he was in, but he was determined to make it in two minutes.

*****

When Keith burst through the apartment door, he dropped his bag to the floor and all but ran into the bathroom. He heard Lance following while calling out concerned questions, but all he could focus on was making it in time.

He padded quickly across the tiled floor until he collapsed to his hands and knees in front of the toilet and heaved.

Lance was at his side seconds later, murmuring soothing words while rubbing a hand up and down Keith’s back.

“You are going to be just fine, love. Just get it out, and you’ll feel better.”

Keith found that he wasn’t so sure about that, but he clung to the words all the same as wave after wave of nausea coursed through him.

Because of his lack of appetite over the last few days, all that was coming up was hot bile that burned his throat, and he winced with each wave.

This went on for ten minutes, and as each minute passed, Lance was growing more and more anxious. He continued smoothing his hand up and down Keith’s back with the hopes of easing the latter’s tense, convulsing muscles.

During a few second break that had Keith panting tiredly over the toilet bowl, Lance fired out questions.

“Is it just your stomach that hurts?”

Keith shook his head. “Everything hurts.”

Lance took a second to slide a palm to Keith’s forehead, and while he wasn’t surprised to find a fever, he was surprised at how bad the fever was. Keith was practically boiling, and he pulled his hand away with a sharp hiss.

“Do you think it’s just a bad virus?”

Keith tensed up as his stomach lurched, and he pressed up on his knees once more. “I don’t know,” he managed out. “My side hurts really bad.”

Lance dropped his gaze to see Keith pressing one hand hard against the right side of his stomach, and he got to his feet while his mind ran a mile a minute.

“I’ll be right back, love,” he called out softly before turning sharply on his heel and bolting out the door.

He moved to the kitchen and fished his phone out of his pocket just as another, loud retching sound echoed from the bathroom.

He punched Shiro’s speed dial, and despite being in class, the older boy picked up on the third ring.

_“Lance? What’s up?”_

“Shit, Shiro,” Lance started, voice shaking. “It’s Keith, he’s really sick.” He gripped the edge of a counter with a trembling hand as another loud gag sounded from the bathroom.

_“What do you mean? What’s going on?”_

“He’s been throwing up for a long time,” Lance said, words tumbling off his tongue. “He said his side hurts really bad. I think I need to take him to the hospital.”

_“Okay. Okay, Lance? I need you not to panic, okay?”_

Lance breathed out a harsh laugh. “A little late for that. Can you meet us at the hospital?”

_“Of course.”_

Lance muttered a quick thank you before hanging up the phone and running back to the bathroom to get Keith.

*****

Lance stared blankly at a wall in the hospital waiting room. As soon as he brought Keith in, a nurse took one look at him then paged for a doctor to prep a surgery room, and seconds later, Keith was being wheeled away on a gurney while a receptionist led Lance to the waiting room with a promise that his partner would be just fine.

That had been fifteen minutes ago, and Lance had stopped crying ten minutes ago. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest and his chin resting atop one knee while he absently stared at the wall.

“Lance!”

Shiro’s voice pierced through the haze clouding Lance’s mind, and seconds later, he was being pulled out of the chair and into Shiro’s strong arms.

He didn’t think he had any more tears in him, and yet, he found himself sobbing into Shiro’s chest while the latter held him tightly.

“It’s going to be fine,” Shiro muttered into Lance’s hair. “You did well, and Keith is going to be just fine.”

Lance only nodded, words lost against the harsh sobs slipping past his lips.

The two stood in the middle of the waiting room like this until Lance finally settled down enough to be led back to his chair.

“Has anyone come to talk to you?” Shiro asked gently, and when Lance shook his head, Shiro left to find some answers.

He returned minutes later and reclaimed his spot in the chair beside Lance. “All the nurse could tell me was that he was being brought into surgery for appendicitis.”

Lance dropped his face into his hands, and Shiro responded with a steady hand to his back.

“I should have known this,” Lance started, voice muffled against his palms. “He hasn’t eaten in days, and he had a fever when he left for class this morning.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Shiro said firmly. He moved until he was crouched in front of Lance and gently pulled the brunet’s hands from his face.

“Listen to me, Lance. This is not your fault at all, okay? I don’t want you blaming yourself.”

Lance blinked away a few stray tears but nodded and allowed Shiro to pull him into another hug, but the two pulled away when a doctor walked in and called for family of Keith Kogane.

“Here!” Lance stumbled toward the doctor with Shiro hot on his heels. “He’s my boyfriend. Is he okay?”

“He was about ten minutes away from a ruptured appendix, so you brought him in just in time. The surgery was successful, and you can see him now if you’d like.”

Lance rapidly nodded, and when he looked back to Shiro, the older boy motioned for him to go.

“Go on. I’m going to call Pidge and Hunk.”

Nodding once more, Lance turned back to the doctor and followed him to Keith’s room.

*****

When Lance got into the room, Keith was still asleep, so he pulled up a chair as close to the bed as possible and waited. After thirty minutes, Keith began to stir.

“Keith? Can you hear me?” Lance asked quietly. He cupped a hand over Keith’s and leaned forward.

Groaning, Keith blinked against the blinding light until Lance’s worried face came into focus. “Hi,” he rasped out weakly. His throat felt raw and dry, but he was happy to find that the pain in his side had been reduced to a dull ache.

“Hi,” Lance whispered back, voice cracking as his eyes brimmed with tears.

“What happened?” Keith questioned slowly as he frowned at the tears sliding down Lance’s cheeks.

“Appendicitis,” Lance answered, voice low. “I brought you in only minutes before your appendix would have ruptured.”

Keith nodded. Apparently appendicitis wasn’t at rare as he wanted to hope it would be. “I’m okay now,” he said softly. “You don’t have to cry.”

“You could have died,” Lance spit back as he swiped his arm against his eyes.

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could of!”

“But. I. Didn’t.”

Lance fell back against his chair with a loud sigh. “Do you get pleasure out of giving me a heart attack?”

Keith’s brows furrowed. “What? Lance, no-”

“Then why do you always do this? First it was the twisted ankle, then it was pneumonia, and now this! We’ve been to the hospital so many times over the last few months because you can’t just tell me when you are sick or hurt!”

“I don’t want you to worry.”

“Well, look how that’s working out!” Lance snapped back. He tilted his head back against the chair and stared at the ceiling until Keith cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry.” Keith knew those were not the words Lance wanted to hear, but he was at a loss at what else to say. He hadn’t realized just how much pain he was bringing to his boyfriend while trying to help him.

Lance hunched over and pressed his forehead against Keith’s hand. “Can you please just start telling me when you are feeling sick or are hurt?” He lifted his head. “I don’t know how much more I can take of this,” he added quietly while weakly gesturing toward the hospital room.

Keith nodded, and Lance replied with a gentle kiss to his hand.

“Get some more rest because Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro will be coming in soon.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Keith questioned softly, and Lance replied with a light huff.

“Yes, but I won’t be by the time you wake up again.”

It wasn’t the answer Keith wanted to hear, but it would have to do for now. He knew he would have some serious damage control to do when he was well enough, but for right now, obeying Lance seemed like the best option. He closed his eyes, and drifted back to sleep almost instantly.


	35. Sick Keith Throwing Up On Lance

Keith wasn’t much of a napper, but when he got back from class feeling like the actual definition of hell, he decided to try his hand at this whole nap business that Lance swore by. 

However, he woke up feeling way worse then when he had fallen asleep, and he wasn’t even sure what woke him up until his stomach twisted violently.

He struggled into a sitting position with a groan, and the movement irritated his stomach just enough. Next thing he knew, he was stumbling out of the bedroom with one hand clamped over his mouth; however, his plans of making a beeline for the bathroom came to a halt when he crashed into Lance in the hallway. 

“Keith?” Lance was quick to place hands on Keith’s shoulders to keep the latter from toppling over, and his lips curled down into a deep frown when he took in Keith’s pale, sweat-slick face accompanied with a trembling hand covering his mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked slowly. 

Keith shook his head and spared one, desperate glance to the bathroom behind the two before his stomach lurched. Before he knew it, hot bile was spewing out from between his fingers, and he doubled over, heaving half onto Lance’s lower half while the rest splattered to the floor. 

The two fell silent, with Keith’s ragged pants serving as the only sound, and Keith was about to begin the many apologies for throwing up on Lance when another wave of nausea washed over him. He just managed to push past Lance before heaving onto the floor right outside of the bathroom. 

He mentally cursed himself for being so pathetic, but his screaming thoughts came to a halt when he felt a hand fall onto his trembling back. 

“Just get it out,” Lance muttered soothingly, and Keith nodded with his eyes squeezed shut as his stomach cramped painfully. Burning bile clawed up his throat, and seconds later, he was heaving once more onto the already covered floor. 

He gagged and gagged for minutes on end, and when his stomach finally settled to a dull ache, he felt himself falling forward; however, Lance was quick, and the latter wrapped a slender arm across Keith’s chest. 

“Easy,” Lance called out lowly as he braced himself against a wall to support Keith’s added weight. The heat rolling off of Keith was concerning, but Lance pushed his focus toward making sure Keith didn’t pass out first. 

Exhaustion nudged at Keith, but with Lance’s help, he managed to stand fully without collapsing; however, Lance remained right at his side just in case. 

Keith stole one, small glance toward the vomit littering Lance’s lower half with a deep sigh. “I’m sor-” 

“Hush,” Lance said sharply, cutting Keith off. He snaked an arm around Keith’s waist and helped Keith into the bathroom. 

“Clothes off,” Lance ordered as he turned to start a bath. 

Keith silently obeyed, but his hand froze right above the clasp of his jeans when he caught sight of Lance ripping his belt off. “Lance, what are you..?”

“I’m going to get in with you,” Lance said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Keith opened his mouth to protest but the sudden sight of Lance’s toned legs had him snapping his mouth shut while he quickly fumbled with the clasp of his jeans. 


	36. Klance ft. Lance with Arrhythmia

While sparring with Keith after class, Lance’s heart suddenly skipped a beat, and he froze with one hand pressed against his chest just as Keith’s foot came swinging at his ribs.

With wide eyes, Keith did his best to drop his foot, but he ended up kicking Lance in the thigh instead.

Lance stumbled upon impact and looked sharply up at Keith. “What the hell?”

“I should be asking you that!” Keith shouted back, arms flailing about. “Why the hell did you just freeze up!? I could have seriously hurt you!”  

Lance frowned and pressed his palm against his chest once more. The steady, rhythmic heart beat thumped softly against his palm.

“Lance?” 

At the sound of Keith’s worried tone, Lance looked up to meet Keith’s questioning eyes. “Sorry. My heart suddenly skipped a beat.”

Keith closed the distance between the two and grabbed Lance’s wrist, pressing two fingers to the small indent of Lance’s wrist. “Are you okay?” He asked while mentally counting each beat. “Do you need to go to the doctor?”

“What?” Lance asked through a light laugh. “No, I’m fine. It just surprised me.” 

When Keith finished counting the healthy amount of heart beats per minute, he stepped away from Lance with furrowed brows. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, Lance rubbed at his bruising thigh with a pinched face. “Yep. Not so sure about my thigh, though.”

Keith shook his head with a sigh. “That was your own fault,” he spit out, yet he crouched down to examine the the deep shade of purple coloring Lance’s tan leg.

*****

Lance jolted awake with a gasp, and it took a solid minute for his mind to catch up to what had woken him up. His heart was racing; he could hear the loud, rapid-fire pounding in his ears just as sweat slid uncomfortably from his temples.

His chest felt tight, and it was hard to get a solid breath in. ‘Heart attack,’ his mind supplied, and before he knew it, he was stumbling out of his dorm room and down the hallway to Keith’s room.

“Keith,” he gasped out as he rapped his knuckles against the door. His vision began to swim, and he just managed one, smaller knock against the door while breathing out a quiet “please” before he was falling.

Keith pulled the door open with just enough time to catch Lance. “Lance!” He stumbled back with the added weight falling into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

With his fingers weakly gripping Keith’s arms, Lance looked up with wide eyes. “Heart attack,” he muttered through ragged breaths, and seconds later, he was being pulled into the room by a frantic Keith.

“What do you mean heart attack? You’re far too young!” The words were tumbling off Keith’s tongue as he led Lance over to the bed. 

Once Lance was seated on the edge of the bed, he hunched over and gripped at the shirt fabric over his chest. “I can’t… My heart.”

Keith glanced from his phone on the bedside table then back to Lance. His mind told him ‘panic attack,’ but Lance had had panic attacks before and never once thought he was having a heart attack. Nevertheless, Keith made a hard judgement call and dropped to his knees in front of Lance.

He cupped Lance’s chin, prompting the brunet to look at him, and he grabbed one of Lance’s hands and pressed it against his chest. “Focus on my breathing, okay?” He took in deep, exaggerated breaths and watched with wide eyes as Lance desperately tried to mimic it.

As a last minute choice, Keith started to ramble about his day, all while taking in large breaths to help Lance. He told Lance about Shiro’s obvious pining over Allura, about Hunk’s free class skip because of a high grade, and about Coran’s hair salon story.

For minutes and minutes, Keith talked, but finally, he could see the color returning to Lance’s face. However, despite seeming more visibly relaxed, Lance was still sporting a deep frown.

“Are you not feeling better?” Keith asked, and Lance responded by grabbing Keith’s hand and placing it against his chest.

Keith’s lips curled down into a frown at the erratic heartbeat thumping against his palm. He tried to count the beats, but they were all over the place. He pulled his hand away and got to his feet. “We are going to the hospital,” Keith said sharply as he moved to his closet and pulled out two coats.

To Keith’s surprise, Lance didn’t utter a single complaint, and he wordlessly accepted the jacket Keith offered him.

Keith then crouched down to slide Lance’s feet into a pair of boots. “It’s going to be fine, Lance,” Keith tried as he laced up the first boot.

Lance wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded all the same.

*****

“Arrhythmia,” Lance repeated slowly. 

“Yes,” the doctor responded. “It’s very common.” 

Keith looked up from his text conversation with Shiro. “Why now?” He questioned.

“That’s hard to say,” the doctor supplied. “There are a number of factors that can cause arrhythmia: stress, high blood pressure, too much alcohol or caffeine, even genetics.” 

Keith dropped a hand to Lance’s shoulder. “And treatment?”

“Treatment isn’t always necessary,” the doctor answered while writing on her clipboard. “Lance most likely seemed bad off tonight because he had a panic attack that was triggered by the arrhythmia. For right now, I’m not going to prescribe anything, but Lance, I would like to see you again in two weeks.” 

Lance nodded with furrowed brows, and the doctor pat him gently on the knee.

“You are going to be just fine, Lance. Now, I have other patients to get to, so I’m afraid I’ll have to step out. You boys have a nice night.” With that, the doctor left the room, leaving Lance and Keith to their thoughts. 

“I’m dying,” Lance said, voice shaking slightly, and Keith was quick to pull the brunet into a tight hug. 

“You heard her,” Keith started, voice soft. “She said it’s really common and that you are going to be fine.” 

Lance nodded despite feeling anything but fine. He was drained, and a dull headache was blooming behind his eyes. He just wanted to go back to his dorm and sleep, and he was just in the middle of mentally contemplating skipping tomorrow’s classes when Keith cleared his throat.

“Do you want stay with me tonight?” 

Lance perked up almost instantly and nodded rapidly. “Yes,” he breathed out, relief washing over every crevice of his body.

Keith took his hand, and together, the two started out of the hospital.


	37. Keith and Lance Crashing Onto a Planet, and Keith Finding the Blue Lion On Fire

****The sound of the loud crunch of metal hit Keith before the actual impact. He had just enough time to call out to Red before he was being thrown out his chair, crashing painfully into the dashboard in front of him just before everything went black.

When he came to minutes later, everything was deathly silent. Red was motionless beneath him, and he placed a shaking palm to the floor, frowning at the absence of the familiar hum. 

His side throbbed painfully when he shifted into a sitting position, and it took his mind a solid two minutes to supply the previous events: Galra attack, Blue getting hit, Red taking a hit going after Blue, both crashing to an unknown planet beneath them, Lance…

“Lance!” Keith shouted into the comms, heart thumping hard against his chest, but he was met with an unnerving silence that had him struggling to his feet with a deep groan. 

Every single bone ached fiercely, and his vision began to swim as soon as he was on his feet. He grabbed onto the console to keep from toppling over and took in a few measured breaths until his surroundings stilled. 

Once he was sure he could walk, he swiftly maneuvered around his chair to exit his lion. It took a bit of shoving against the door to get it open, but once he did, he was met with freezing rain and wind whipping at him.He sucked in a sharp breath but pressed onward, thankful for his armor for protecting him from the worst of it. 

The rain was falling in a slant thanks to the harsh winds, and Keith held one arm up in front of his face as he struggled forward with no real direction in mind. He desperately tried to wrack his mind for what direction Blue was falling in, but his brain was a jumbled mess at the moment. 

He caught sight of a hill a short distance away and started toward it with bright, determined eyes. The higher up he was, the more he would be able to see. The hill wasn’t very steep, but by the time he reached the top, he was doubled over and panting harshly just as sweat slid uncomfortably from his temples.

When he finally looked up, his breath caught in his throat, and every limb jerked to a sudden halt.

Bright, large orange flames danced up from Blue to glow against the grey, storming sky. 

Before Keith knew it, he was stumbling down the hill toward the burning Lion with only one thought on his mind: Lance. 

He staggered when his feet crashed against small, bent pieces of Blue, but he caught his footing and pressed forward. When he was close enough, he could feel the heat through his armor, and the smoke filtered in just enough to leave him coughing weakly as he navigated around larger, burning pieces of Blue to get to the door leading inside. 

The door was half-hanging on its hinges, and Keith took that as a small victory as he effortlessly squeezed through the gap. The smoke inside Blue was thick and clouded Keith’s vision, so he relied on muscle memory as he walked almost blind to find Lance. 

His foot hit against something hard, and the muffled groan that followed had Keith dropping to his knees beside Lance. 

“Lance, hey!” Keith shouted, shaking the brunet’s shoulders, but Lance only responded by coughing harshly as his eyes fluttered shut. 

Keith cursed under his breath and scooped Lance up bridal style. Loud, popping sounds echoed around them, and Keith quickened his pace despite his protesting limbs. 

He struggled with ragged breaths as he carried Lance a safe enough distant away, leaving behind the faint, sporadic hums emitting from Blue. 

He trudged back up the hill, and by the time he reached the top, his knees gave out, and he dropped Lance as he fell to the ground. His heart was hammering hard against his chest, and he ripped off his helmet as strong coughs tore up his throat. 

He spent the better half of five minutes hacking up a lung, but when he finally caught his breath, he weakly crawled over to Lance’s motionless body. He pulled the brunet’s helmet off and pressed an ear to Lance’s armored chest to listen for a heart beat. It was faint and slow, but Keith pulled back with a relieved sigh at the sound of Lance’s heart. 

“Lance,” Keith tried, shaking the brunet by the shoulders. “Lance, wake up!” 

Lance groaned beneath his touch, and Keith pulled his hands away and watched with bated breath as Lance blinked tired eyes against the rain. 

Lance’s lips curled up into a soft smile, and he closed his eyes and let out one, weak laugh that left Keith leaning over the brunet with wide, worried eyes. 

“Lance?” 

When Lance opened his eyes, Keith froze. The brunet’s eyes were welling with tears despite the smile painted across his lips. 

“Rain,” Lance said softly before his eyes fluttered shut, and the slow rise and fall of his chest came to a halt. 

Keith couldn’t hear the ear piercing scream ripping up his throat over his pounding heart echoing in his ears. He grabbed Lance’s lifeless body and hugged him to his chest as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

Faint shouts were carried across the wind, and Keith blinked away tears to see Shiro bolting towards them with Pidge and Hunk hot on his heels. 

*****

When the pod whirred open, Keith got to his feet and watched with his arms crossed tightly over his chest as Lance stumbled out. 

The others crowded around behind Keith and watched with bated breath until Lance tossed his arms into the air with a loud yawn. 

“Wow, how long was I-”

Keith ran forward and cut Lance off by wrapping strong arms around the brunet. The two toppled to the ground with a loud thud, but Keith kept his tight hold around Lance. 

Lance hissed at the pain from the fall, but he returned the hug with a nervous laugh. “What happened?” He asked, eyes darting around the others. “Did I almost die or something?” His memory was foggy. He could only remember falling and then heat- lots and lots of suffocating heat. 

“It was a close call,” Shiro informed, unable to admit that they had lost Lance for two minutes. Memories of pounding hard against Lance’s chest flashed hot across his mind, but he shook his head and offered Lance a smile. “But you’re okay now.” 

“And Blue is going to be just fine! Hunk and I were able to bring both Blue and Red back, and we worked on both of them until they powered back on.” Pidge added with a toothy grin. 

With furrowed brows, Lance pulled away from Keith. “What happened?” He questioned slowly. He took in the tears brimming Keith’s eyes with a deep frown. 

Keith shook his head and let out a shaky breath. “It’s a long story.” 

“That can wait until after you rest, Lance,” Allura cut in with a firm tone, but the tell-tale hint of relief was evident. 

Lance nodded, feeling even more confused, and he wordlessly allowed Keith to pull him to his feet. 

The two slowly followed the others out of the room, and Keith waited until they were out of ear shot to brush his lips against Lance’s ear. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered, tightening his grip around Lance’s waist. 

Lance had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the story about what happened, but for right now, he was here, and Keith was a warm, steady presence at his side. 

“Me too.” 


	38. Klance ft. The Two in an Argument and Keith Being Sick

In hindsight, the argument was beyond stupid, but when you pair stubbornness with stubbornness, the end result is a shouting match followed by slamming doors and the silent treatment.

Keith knew that approaching Lance about this very attractive lab partner would be a bad idea, but he just had to know if something more was going on. People talked, and he caught whim of some gossip concerning Lance leaning a little too close to said attractive lab partner.

Lance reacted just as Keith expected, but instead of dropping the subject, Keith fired back just as hard with cheating accusations until the two stormed off to their separate dorm rooms.

For two days, Lance shut Keith out entirely, and Keith wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was tearing him up in a way that manifested into physical illness. He could hardly sleep, and eating was out of the question. Pair that with school stress, Lance stress, and the fresher’s flu bouncing around, and Keith was left feeling terrible.

By the third day, he still hadn’t seen Lance, but the latter offered one, curt text saying “I’m going to dinner.” It wasn’t much, but Keith all but cradled his phone with the text open to his chest.

Keith finally replied with “okay” then went back to his studying, but after only an hour in, he found himself closing his textbook with a shaking hand. A fierce headache had started from behind his eyes and spread up and across his entire forehead, making it hard to concentrate. He couldn’t go five seconds without being forced to turn away to sneeze or cough into the crook of his arm. Every muscle felt heavy and ached fiercely, and he had spent the better half of the hour alternating between wrapping a blanket around his shivering frame to ripping his shirt off to combat the stifling heat.

He felt sticky with sweat and decided a shower may do him some good, but when he got to his feet, his vision began to swim, and he just made it to his bed before everything went dark.

*****

Keith jolted into a sitting position as harsh, wet coughs ripped up his throat. He clamped one hand over his mouth while placing his other hand across his tightening chest. He could physically feel his lungs struggling with each, grating cough, and this went on for minutes on end until he was left sucking in weak, ragged breaths as stray tears slipped from his bloodshot eyes.

It didn’t take long to realize he needed help, and he blindly reached for his phone. The 2:14 a.m. time flashing at him left him frowning. He couldn’t even remember walking to his bed, and this notion alone frightened him enough to where he fired off a quick “are you awake?” text to Lance.

The reply was almost instant, but all Lance said back was “no.”

Keith breathed out a shaking sigh, but half-way through, his breath hitched, and he turned to sneeze once, twice, three times into the crook of his elbow. The movement left his head reeling, and he sniffled softly while narrowing his eyes against the darkness to stare at his door.

Lance’s room was only three rooms down the hall, and with that in mind, Keith struggled to his feet. The room swayed, and he felt himself pitching forward, but he managed to keep himself from falling by reaching a shaking hand out to his bedside table. He took in a few small, ragged breaths while he blinked away the haziness coating his vision.

It took two minutes before he was confident he could walk to his door without collapsing; however, he opted to take it slow and cautious. He hadn’t cleaned in a few weeks, and there were too many things littering his floor that would hurt terribly if he fell on them.

The hallway was silent, and Keith coughed with his lips pressed firmly closed and stifled sneezes so not to wake anyone as he slowly crept toward Lance’s room. He had to keep one hand on the wall for support, but after what felt like years, he was facing the whiteboard on Lance’s door that read “Lance loves Keith :) :)”.

He rapped his knuckles against the door in the familiar rhythm the two use just for each other, but he was met with a muttered “go away, Keith.”

He tried again, and when he was met with silence, he tried again. He figured either Lance would open the door eventually or he would pass out, and he was really hoping for the former.

After a solid minute, he heard a soft click and glanced down to see low light filtering out from the crack at the bottom of the door, and seconds later, Lance’s door was being pulled open.

“I said-” Lance froze, words trailing off, and all tell-tale signs of anger washed away from his face as he took in Keith’s appearance. “Keith? Are you okay?”

Keith only managed one, small shake of the head before he was being pulled into Lance’s room. He stumbled, but the brunet was quick to steady him. Next thing he knew, he was being pushed down by the shoulders onto the bed, and he couldn’t be more grateful because he wasn’t sure how much longer he had until he passed out.

Lance crouched in front of Keith and brushed Keith’s sweaty bangs away to press a palm to his forehead. He pulled his hand away with a sharp hiss. “You’re burning up,” he said lowly, voice thick with worry. He studied the dark circles painted underneath Keith’s eyes and Keith’s pale, washed out complexion with a deep frown.

Keith opened his mouth to reply but ended up turning and smashing his face into the crook of his arm as strong, harsh coughs wracked his shivering frame.

“Christ, you sound terrible,” Lance muttered. He placed one hand atop Keith’s knee and waited for the latter to catch his breath.

“I feel terrible,” Keith managed out after a few moments. His head felt as if it were splitting in two, and he felt as if he weighed a thousand pounds. A permanent chill coated his bones, and his throat was throbbing mercilessly.

“How long have you been sick?” Lance questioned slowly with narrow eyes.

The lie was on the tip of his tongue, but Keith opted, instead, to tell the truth. He had never been a good liar around Lance. “Since we fought.”

Lance wordlessly got to his feet and busied himself with his first aid kit. Guilt twisted within his stomach, but he couldn’t help being mad. Everyone on the damn campus knew how much he loved Keith, so it hurt when Keith honestly thought he was cheating.

He pulled a thermometer from the kit and made his way back to Keith. “Open.”

Keith silently obeyed and allowed Lance to slide the thermometer under his tongue. While the two waited, Keith took note on how Lance wouldn’t look him in the eye with a deep frown.

When the device finally beeped, Lance snatched it out of Keith’s mouth, face twisting into concern at the 103.3 Degree Fahrenheit reading blinking back at him. “Fuck,” he breathed out on a shaking breath.

“What is it?” Keith questioned, feeling nervous at the way Lance’s entire body tensed.

“Bad,” was all Lance opted to supply. He tossed the thermometer back into the kit and dug around for fever reducers. With two pills in hand, he grabbed a water from his mini fridge and went back to Keith. “Take these then go to bed.”

Keith swallowed the pills with a few gulps of water then moved to get to his feet, only to be pushed back down onto the bed by frantic hands.

“Where the hell do you think you are going?” Lance asked sharply.

“Back to my room,” Keith answered tiredly. He turned to sneeze into his elbow before continuing. “You’re clearly still mad at me, so I’ll leave you alone.”

Lance rubbed his hands up and down his face before dropping onto the bed beside Keith. He took one of Keith’s hands in both of his. “I’m not mad.”

When Keith arched a brow at him in question, Lance breathed out a low sigh.

“Okay, I’m still a little mad, but I’m more worried right now.” He tightened his hands around Keith’s. “I want you to stay here so I can look after you, and at a more reasonable time in the morning, we’ll make a trip to the student clinic.”

Keith dropped his burning forehead against Lance’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he rasped out. “I know you would never cheat on me.”

Lance shook his head. “Never in a million years,” he added before dropping Keith’s hand and getting to his feet. He motioned for Keith to get fully into the bed.

Keith did so, but based on the tense silence, he could tell something was still wrong. “Lance,” Keith pressed as Lance tugged the blankets up to his chin.

Lance sighed and leaned down to press a feather light kiss to Keith’s forehead. “When you are better, we need to have a talk about trust.”

It was then that Keith knew that Lance was more hurt then mad, but when he opened his mouth to apologize once more, Lance stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it for now, okay? You’re really sick, and all you need to focus on is getting better.”

Keith turned his face away to cough weakly before offering one, small nod. A low, nervous feeling threatened to take hold in his stomach, but he was able to drift off with relative ease with the help of Lance’s steady fingers combing through his hair.


	39. Pre-Klance ft. Sick Keith Thinking Lance Doesn't Like Him

Keith knew it was common knowledge for the body temperature to drop during sleep; however, when he woke up to shivering limbs and chattering teeth, he figured this was different.

When he sat up and had to blink back dizziness stemmed from a splitting headache, he all but confirmed the worst: he was sick.

But, time didn’t stop for illness, so he pried himself off his bed and dressed for the day. Twice he was forced to stop when his vision began to swim, but he would brace himself against a wall and take in slow, measured breaths until he could see and think clearly.

While slipping into his jacket, he stepped out of the room and bumped into Lance.

“Watch where you’re going, Mullet!”

Keith winced for Lance’s voice felt like a grater rubbing against his brain, and he brought a shaking hand to his head as he shot the brunet a dull glare.

“Don’t call me that.” He turned and started down the hall, and seconds later, Lance fell into step beside him.

“Someone is grumpier then usual this morning,” Lance commented, voice teasing but holding an underlining tone of concern that Keith failed to catch onto.

“Bumping into you at the very start of my morning isn’t what I would call ideal,” Keith shot back as he crossed his arms over his chest. The hallway felt colder then it normally did, and his mind all but screamed “fever” just as he and Lance entered the dining room.

The two were greeted with loud voices, clinking forks against glass plates, and hearty laughter, and Keith just knew he was in for a long day.

*****

Breakfast did nothing but heighten Keith’s already pounding head, and by the time he hit the training deck, he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat despite the icy burn clinging to his bones. His head felt incredibly heavy, and his surroundings were moving at a small, unsteady sway that left him slightly nauseous.

Training always helped clear his mind, and he hoped that today’s training would be no exception; however, with each thrust of a fist and each kick of a foot, he was left hunched over with his hands braced against his knees as he gasped for breath.

He was just in the middle of calming his racing heart when Lance strolled in, all wide smile and bright eyes.

“Can we train together?” Lance asked, and Keith frowned.

It felt as if Lance had been clinging to him today, and he didn’t understand why. But, when he opened his mouth to question the brunet, darkness crept at the edges of his vision, and he snapped his mouth closed with furrowed brows.

He felt simultaneously too hot and too cold, and Lance’s worried face was spinning into twos and threes in front of him. No amount of blinking would clear his darkening vision, and Lance’s concerned voice became a faint echo that could not be heard over his heart hammering in his ears.

Keith’s last coherent thought was a simple ‘fuck’ before everything went black.

*****

Keith came to to the slow, rhythmic movement of slender fingers combing through his hair. His head was cushioned against something warm yet strong, and when he finally opened his eyes, he was met with Lance’s wide, worried ones hovering over him.

“What?” Keith managed out. One slight tilt of the head told him that he was currently using Lance’s thighs as a pillow while said boy moved his hand from Keith’s hair to his forehead.

“You passed out,” Lance supplied while keeping his voice impossibly quiet. “You’re burning up.”

Keith swallowed back nausea and offered a small nod.

“Do you think you can stand?”

“What?” Keith said once more. His mind was jumbled, and it was taking him longer then usual to comprehend basic sentences.

“I want to help you to your room,” Lance offered with a slight smile that never reached his worried eyes.

With furrowed brows, Keith forced himself up and into a sitting position despite Lance’s hushed protests. His muscles ached fiercely just from the small movement, and for a brief moment, he thought he was going to pass out once more. He felt uncomfortably hot, and his head felt as if it were being torn in two.

“Why?” He asked through clenched teeth as he massaged his temples.

“Why what?”

Lance’s voice was a mix of concern and curiosity, and Keith breathed out a low sigh.

“Why do you want to help me? You don’t like me.” Keith said, voice flat and matter-of-fact.

“What?” Lance questioned sharply, face matching his surprised tone. “Why would you think that?”

Keith pushed past the haziness clouding his mind to remember all the times he and Lance fought. Out of all of the paladins, Lance was the one he argued with the most. The two were constantly at each other’s throats when left in a room alone together. How was this not obvious?

“You always fight with me,” Keith supplied, unable to get much words out thanks to his throbbing head.

Lance’s face dropped into realization, and he shook his head. “That’s not personal,” he started, voice slightly desperate. “I don’t hate you at all- the exact opposite actually.”

“Huh?” The sudden chills wracking Keith’s body were making it hard to concentrate.

Lance slipped out of his jacket and draped it across Keith’s shoulders with a frown. “I’m saying I like you,” he said lowly as he wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulders and rubbed his hand up and down Keith’s arm to provide added warmth. “A lot.”

Keith’s heart fluttered against his chest just as dark spots danced across his vision.

“Keith? You with Me? You look really pale.”

Lance’s tone was dripping with concern, and Keith only managed one, small nod as he desperately tried to keep from passing out. Lance’s words were playing on repeat in his already pounding head, but he couldn’t get his mouth to form coherent words.

“Okay,” Lance said, drawing out the word. “We need to get you to bed. Now.”

Nodding once more, Keith allowed Lance to help him to his feet, but when he started to sway as soon as he was standing, Lance was quick to wrap a strong arm around his waist.

Keith felt his face heat up, but whether it was from the fever or something else, he wasn’t quite sure. Nevertheless, any complaints fell on silent lips as he and Lance started toward his bedroom, and Keith would never admit it out loud, but be may or may not have feigned dizziness in order to lean closer toward Lance on their slow trek back to his room.


	40. Ficlet: Lance Encountering Full Force Galra By Himself and Almost Dying

Guns are useless when you are surrounded by countless enemies wielding various form of weapons: guns, hammers, blades, etc. Lance figures this out very quickly when he’s cornered by twelve Galra soldiers with no other paladin in sight. 

For each shot of his bayard, he gets hit. Hard. He’s been stabbed numerous times, whacked with a hammer that he knows is breaking bones and leaving bruises, and shot twice. One bullet pierced a little too close to his heart, and that’s what it took to get his mind kicked into gear. 

As if seeing red, he snaps. He grinds his teeth together to bite back the pain clinging to every inch of his body, and he starts firing. Each shot leaves his ears ringing, but the Galra are dropping like flies around him. 

When the last one falls, his collapses to his knees. Blood is all but pouring from multiple wounds, and his vision is growing dark. He can faintly hear shouting from the comms before everything goes black. 

*****

“He’s not answering.” 

“I’m worried.” 

Shiro stares at the other three with furrowed brows. When they all managed to find each other and realized that Lance was missing, they spent the better half of ten minutes calling out to the brunet over the comms, but they were met with soft static. 

“Let’s go find him,” Shiro commands, eyes narrow and determined. “Keep your guard up. There could still be Galra.” 

The four creep quietly throughout the hallways of the Galra base. The silence is unsettling, and it’s leaving the four paladins on edge. Shiro’s in the lead, and with each turn of a corner, he grows more concerned. The worry has twisted into a pit within his stomach, but he keeps pressing forward. He’s going to find Lance, and Lance is going to be just fine. He repeats that over and over in his head as he leads the other three in their almost desperate search. 

When they begin stumbling upon Galra bodies, Shiro’s chest swells with pride. Each corpse is sporting a large, gun wound that had to have been done by Lance’s bayard, but when they keep spotting more and more, the pride morphs into concern. There are far too many Galra soldiers for one paladin, and when he turns another corner and spots Lance’s lifeless body crumpled against the floor, his breath catches in his throat. 

While Shiro’s frozen on spot, Hunk and Keith shove past the older paladin to get to Lance while Pidge grips tightly at Shiro’s arm as tears slip down her cheeks. 

Keith immediately checks for a pulse while Hunk winces at the various wounds littering Lance’s body. 

“He’s still alive,” Keith calls out, voice shaking, and that’s all it takes to have Shiro and Pidge closing the distance and dropping to their knees beside the others. 

The pulse thumping against Keith’s fingers is weak, and the skin is cold to the touch. Lance didn’t have much time; this much Keith knew. “We have to get him into a pod. Now.” His voice is sharp, demanding, but the underlining concern and fear are evident. 

“I don’t even understand how he’s alive,” Hunk whispers as his hand ghosts above a nasty gun shot wound on Lance’s chest. He knows he should feel hopeful that Lance is still alive and defying all odds, but he’s so desperately afraid for his very best friend. 

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Shiro says, voice surprisingly calm despite his racing heart. “We need to get him out of here.” He barks out a few orders, and seconds later, Pidge and Keith are racing back to their lions while Hunk stands guard beside Shiro, while the latter carefully lifts Lance into his arms. 

Running isn’t ideal considering Lance’s condition, but Shiro risks it. He and Hunk fall into a steady jog toward the exit. They are working with only minutes, and the faster they get Lance to a pod, the better. 

*****

Pods don’t heal memories, and when Lance stumbles out after days in one, his first reaction is to fight. He throws a slopping punch toward the closest person, but tight fingers latch onto his wrist. 

“Woah, Lance! Easy! It’s just us!” 

The voice is familiar, but all Lance can see is a large Galra soldier glaring down at him. Panic courses through his body, but when he tries to pull a way, he stumbles into someone else. 

“Pull yourself together!” 

Keith. Lance snaps his gaze to the left, and after blinking a few times, Keith’s worried face comes into focus. Slowly, he turns his eyes back to the front to see Shiro holding his wrist with Hunk, Pidge, Coran, and Allura hovering behind the older paladin. 

“You with us?” Shiro asks, and Lance offers a small, apologetic nod as Shiro releases his wrist. 

Lance wraps his arms around himself and drops his gaze to the ground. “There were so many,” he whispers, shivering slightly. “I thought I was still there for a moment.” 

“You’re safe now.” 

Lance looks up toward Hunk, and he can’t help the grin that plays at the corners of his lips when he’s met with Hunk’s beaming smile. 

Shiro drapes an arm across Lance’s shoulder when he notices the brunet swaying slightly. “You did well, Lance.” 

Despite the dull ache clinging to Lance’s body paired with hot flashes of weapons and guns aimed at him crossing his mind, Lance feels happy, proud even, and thankful, and he leans into Shiro’s steady, grounded warmth while the others fill him in on what happened.


	41. Klance ft. Keith Accidentally Poisoning Lance When Kissing

The planet’s temperatures were cool. A gentle breeze played against the light rain fall that pattered softly against the two boys. Keith would never understand Lance’s fascination for rain, but getting slowly drenched on this abandon planet was worth it to see the brunet. 

Lance stood atop a hill with his arms stretched out wide on either side. His head was tilted back, and his lips were curled up into a large grin as rain drops slid down his face. His chest rose and fell with each deep inhale and exhale as he took in the familiar scent that danced across the breeze. 

“We are both going to get sick,” Keith called out from from his spot a few feet behind Lance. He crossed his arms and fought against a small shudder. 

“That’s just a myth, Keith,” Lance said, keeping his eyes closed. He welcomed each drop against his skin like one would welcome a family member with open arms. He never truly knew how much he missed the feeling of rain until now, and for a moment, he could forget about Voltron and responsibilities and just be a boy standing in the rain with another boy. 

“Maybe, but still,” Keith pressed as he walked closer to Lance; however, he couldn’t keep the smile teasing at the corners of his lips as he approached the brunet. 

Lance rolled his head to side and slowly opened his eyes. He studied the way Keith’s wet bangs hung loosely above his forehead and the way small rain drops slid down Keith’s neck and across his exposed collarbone, and before he knew it, he was turning on his heel and moving until he was directly in front of Keith. 

Keith arched a brow. “You have a very determined look in your eyes.” His voice was playful, and there was an underlying hint of teasing. 

“You always said to wait until we’re completely alone,” Lance fired back with a dangerous smile as he motioned around to the abandoned planet surrounding them. He moved closer, impossibly close, and draped his arms lazily over Keith’s shoulders. “Can we? I’m still waiting to mark ‘Kiss in a foreign place’ off my bucket list.” 

Keith breathed out a low sigh but did his best to keep his expression confident despite his hammering heart. He had no intentions of declining, and Lance was quick to pick up on that. 

Lance leaned forward and softly brushed his lips against Keith’s. The kiss was was warm, gentle, but when Keith groaned lightly against his lips, he curled his fingers into Keith’s hair just as Keith opened his lips enough for Lance’s tongue to slip past. 

Their tongues danced around one another playfully. Lance tugged at Keith’s hair while Keith gripped tightly at the back of Lance’s jacket. Despite the intensity, when both boys pulled away with soft pants, they were grinning ear to ear; however, Lance’s smile quickly dropped into a frown. 

Keith was quick to match the brunet’s expression. “Lance? Was I that bad?” 

Lance shook his head, voice lost against his closing throat. He clamped one hand around his neck with wide eyes. His heart was pounding hard against his chest, and suddenly, each rain drop felt like ice against his heated skin. 

“Woah, Lance. You look really pale,” Keith’s hands hovered over Lance, unsure of what to do. He watched with shaking eyes as Lance’s entire body suddenly seized up right before the brunet’s eyes rolled back, and his lifeless body pitched forward into Keith’s outstretched arms. 

For a moment, Keith couldn’t breathe, and he stood frozen with Lance’s motionless body in his arms. But, his mind finally caught up, and with welling eyes, he lifted Lance into his arms and sprinted toward his lion. 

Had he just kissed and killed?  

*****

“Shiro!” Keith kicked the door open and ran into the room with Lance in his arms. 

“What happened?” Shiro was on his feet and at Keith’s sides in seconds, with the others hot on his heels. He took in Lance’s lifeless form with furrowed brows. 

“I,” Keith started, panting heavily. “We kissed, and then he just collapsed.” 

“You kissed!?” Hunk and Pidge shouted almost in unison, and Keith rapidly nodded. 

“Yeah. We… He… We wanted to, but then he just collapsed, and he hasn’t woken up since!” As soon as the words tumbled off his tongue, Allura and Coran ran into the room. 

Allura took one look at Lance and began barking out orders, but when Keith tried to follow Shiro, who had taken Lance, out of the room, Coran stopped him. 

“Not you, my dear boy,” Coran said, voice lacking the usual sing-song tone. 

Keith craned his neck to look around Coran at the others running out of the room with desperate eyes. 

*****

When Lance groaned, Keith grabbed one of his hands and squeezed tightly. 

“Lance?” He questioned, voice low and trembling. He watched as Lance’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and when their gazes met, Lance grinned. 

“I thought kissing was supposed to wake someone up not knock them out,” Lance rasped out, and Keith breathed out a shaking laugh that contrasted against his watering eyes. 

“Coran ran a lot of tests. Because of my Galra genes, I’ve got this clear substance that lines my teeth. It’s poisonous toward humans.” Keith explained, voice quiet yet intense. “I could have killed you.” 

Lance shrugged. “But you didn’t.” 

Keith dropped his forehead against their clasped hands. “You are such a ‘glass is half full’ kind of guy.” 

Lance took his free hand and combed his fingers through Keith’s tangled locks, and Keith hummed in response. 

Lance continued for a few minutes, but when his brain caught up to what Keith said, his hand froze, prompting Keith to look up with questioning eyes. 

“Does this mean we can’t kiss again?” 

Keith leaned back in his chair with a low sigh. “Not like that, at least not for right now. We can only kiss with closed lips.” 

Lance nodded and brought his tired gaze to the ceiling. He did his best to keep the disappoint from bleeding out onto his face. 

“Sorry I almost killed you,” Keith said, and Lance shook his head. 

“It was worth it.” 


	42. Shance ft. Sick Lance While Captured with Shiro

Lance watched with tired eyes as Shiro repeatedly paced the small length of the cell. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Over and over and over as if that movement, now the product of muscle memory, could free the two.

Lance knew Shiro felt guilty. The two had been fighting off a crowd of Galra. Both were holding their own fairly well, but one particular solider slid in behind Shiro and swung a giant hammer down onto the older paladin’s back. Shiro crumpled under the weight of the weapon, but he remained awake.

For a moment, Lance had frozen, but when he locked eyes with Shiro’s and Shiro gave a slight shake of the head, he snapped.

For two minutes, the only sounds were Lance’s Bayard firing off and bodies dropping to the floor. He had cleared a path to Shiro, but only seconds after he has dropped to his knees beside the black paladin, the two became surrounded by another mass of Galra.

Neither had to say a word to know they were going to surrender, and only minutes later, the two were tossed into a small cell without their helmets, without any way of communicating to the others.

Despite his injured back, Shiro quickly hopped up to his feet and started shouting while Lance moved to a corner toward the back of the cell.

To be quite frank, Lance hadn’t been feeling all that well over the last few days, but when he got paired with Shiro for this mission, he brought his chin up and puffed his chest out, determined to show the older paladin that he was capable.

Shiro spent the first hour locked in the cell shouting, which Lance was silently thankful for because the constant yelling masked the coughs that slipped past his pressed lips, but he then moved to pacing, and Lance drew his knees to his chest for added warmth from the chill clinging to his bones and watched.

Another hour past, and while Shiro was growing restless, Lance was getting worse. His head felt as if it were splitting in two, and the constant patter of Shiro’s boots against the cool metal wasn’t helping. He was freezing, but when he pressed his hand to his cheek and felt how hot his face was compared to how icy his hand felt, he knew he had a fever. And, his chest hurt terribly. Swallowing back coughs was painful, but he didn’t want Shrio to know-

“Lance?”

Shit. Lance glanced up to see Shiro standing over him with furrowed brows.

Lance opened his mouth to reply, but he ended up doubled over in a harsh coughing fit that left tears springing in his eyes. He could hear faint, muttered cursing, and then a hand dropped onto his shoulder while he struggled against his rattling lungs.

For two minutes, the only sound was Lance’s deep, wet coughs echoing throughout small cell, but finally, what felt like a million ticks later, he was able to catch his breath. He swiped his arm across his welling eyes as he focused on sucking in measured breaths as to not further irritate his struggling lungs.

While his vision was slightly swimming, Shiro’s worried face in front of his was as clear as day.

Instead of responding verbally, Shiro slipped a glove off and pressed the back of his hand to Lance’s cheek, frowning deeply at the heat. He slid his hand up to palm Lance’s forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”

Play dumb, Lance’s mind supplied. “Oh? Do I?”

Shiro tilted his head slightly with his hand still pressed firmly to Lance’s forehead. “Yes,” he said, voice firm despite the obvious touch of worry.

Lance tried and failed to suppress a shudder. He wrapped his arms around himself and breathed out a low sigh that was followed by a few, weaker coughs. “I haven’t been feeling well for a few days now.” He admitted. 

Shiro hissed out a low curse before glancing back to the cell door. He was in the middle of contemplating if he could break through the bars with his mechanical arm when Lance’s soft groan pulled his attention back to the blue paladin.

Lance massaged his head with one hand. He felt as if his head was going to burst into a million little pieces.

Shiro thought for a moment more before he took a spot beside Lance and motioned to his lap.

Lance blinked slowly. “What?” He rasped out in between a few coughs.

“Lie back. Use my lap as a pillow. You should get rest while you can.” Shiro’s voice kept the authoritative command, but he was worried. He should have caught on sooner that Lance was ill, and now he got the two trapped in a cell indefinitely.

Lance considered this for a moments before he was shifting around. He dropped his head onto Shiro’s lap with a soft whimper. Just moving left his head reeling, and he had to tightly close his eyes when the room started to sway.

“It’s okay,” Shiro said. He carded his fingers lightly through Lance’s bangs while he mentally cursed himself for getting Lance into this situation in the first place.

“Stop,” Lance said with a low groan, and Shiro’s hand froze.

“No, not that,” Lance muttered. “The thinking.” He paused to cough. “I know you are blaming yourself for this, but it’s not your fault.”

Slowly, Shiro began carding his fingers through Lance’s hair once more. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me.”

Lance shook his head. “Shiro, really. This isn’t your fault.” He knew his words were pointless, that even if Shiro said ‘okay,’ the older paladin would still inwardly blame himself. But, hell, that wasn’t going to stop Lance from trying.

Shiro opted, instead, to remain quiet as he turned his attention to plotting a way out.

Lance was worried for the older paladin, but exhaustion tugged at all corners, and soon enough, he was nodding off.

*****

“-appened!?”

Lance stirred at the voice but kept his eyes closed.

“Shiro? He’s burning!”

Ugh, Lance thought. Why is Mullet being so… Keith? Lance pried his eyes open just as he felt himself being lifted.

“Shiro, are you sure? I can carry him.”

“I’ve got it, Keith.”

Shiro’s voice rumbled directly over Lance, and Lance only responded by pressing his face to the older paladin’s defined chest.

He heard a lot of shouting, the loud clank of weapons against weapons, and then he nodded off once more. 

*****

The first thing Lance saw when he cracked tired eyes open was Shiro sleeping in a chair beside his bed. The black paladin was sporting dark circles under his eyes that left Lance frowning. How much sleep had Shiro missed because of him?

Lance shifted slightly, but the rustle of fabric was enough to pull Shiro from his light sleep.

Shiro blinked tiredly for a moment before his eyes went wide at the sight of Lance blinking back at him.

“Lance,” Shiro breathed out, relief evident in his tone. He leaned forward and cupped one of Lance’s hands with both of his. “How are you feeling?”

Lance shrugged. He just felt tired, but he had a feeling he’d been sleeping for quite some time now. His memories of what happened were fuzzy, but all he cared about was that he was here in his room, not a Galra cell, with Shiro at his side.

Shiro pressed one hand to Lance’s forehead. The heat was still evident, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. “You’re getting better.”

Lance momentarily turned his face away to cough. “Yeah,” he rasped out. “I’m okay, so you should get sleep.”

To his surprise, Shiro breathed out a low laugh.

“Not a chance, Lance. I’m staying right here until you are one hundred percent.”

Lance knew he should protest, but Shiro was a steady, grounded presence that he didn’t wish to part with. Instead, he shoved over until he was pressed as close to the wall as possible.

“Lance, what are you-”

Lance pat the now empty side of the bed. “If you are going to stay, you are going to sleep. Properly.” When Shiro looked as if he were about to protest, Lance arched a brow. “ _Shiro_.”

Shiro rose from the chair, bones cracking in protest. He carefully slid into the empty spot, freezing when Lance curled up against his side.

“Lance?”

“Mmm, can’t hear you,” Lance muttered, snuggling closer to Shiro. “I’m sleeping.”

Shiro’s lips pulled up into a soft smile as he draped an arm around Lance’s back, and seconds later, the two were fast asleep. 


	43. Lance Not Sleeping Because of Nightmares

Lance blindly paces the dark castle halls. He’s on his third sleepless night, too afraid to sleep because every time his eyes flutter closed, he’s plagued with vivid, suffocating nightmares filled with death.

Pidge is first. She’s slammed into a wall, and Lance has to watch as her lifeless body crumples to the floor. He tries to stop it every time, but it’s as if his feet are glued to the floor.

Cut to Coran and Allura. Lance hovers in his lion just outside the castle as a fire flares up from a lower part of the castle. Coran and Allura bang on a glass window from the highest room, but anytime Lance tries to fly forward, he’s stopped by an unseen force and left to watch as the two disappear behind large flames and billowing smoke.

Cut to Keith. Lance is running in a Galra base, and as soon as he turns a corner, he see Keith being stabbed in the stomach by a large blade. Blood splatters from his mouth, and his body slowly slides from the blade and falls to the floor in a pool of blood.

Cut to Shiro, who jumps in front of Lance to protect him from being hit with a laser. The laser blasts a hole in Shiro’s chest, and he collapses, already dead before he hits the ground.

And cut to Hunk. Hunk is laid up in bed after being poisoned. His skin is ashen, and his ribs jut out from his sides. Blood stains his blankets and pillow, and Lance is forced to watch helplessly as his best friend fades away right before his very eyes.

Sleep is clearly not on Lance’s side, so he spends his nights exploring the castle. He’s just walking past Pidge’s room when he hears piercing scream that has him bursting into the green paladin’s room.

Pidge is in a sitting position and panting heavily. She’s slick with sweat, making her bangs cling to her forehead, and Lance’s face falls as he takes int the tell-tale signs of a nightmare.

He takes a spot beside her on the bed. “Bad dream?”

Pidge nods. “Matt,” she supplies when Lance tilts his head in question.

Lance nods knowingly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Pidge shakes her head almost instantly. “No. I can’t.” Her voice catches in her throat as tears slip down her cheeks, and Lance wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest.

The two sit like this until Pidge cries herself to sleep. Despite the tear tracks, her face is seemingly relaxed, and Lance eases her back down before he carefully slips out of the bed.

He creeps out of the room, and as soon as the door shuts behind him, he sags against it, rubbing tired hands up and down his face. He’s exhausted, but he can’t take another night of death.

After a few more moments, he pushes off the door in search of a new room he has yet to explore.

*****

Breakfast is too loud, too much. Lance keeps his head bowed and his eyes trained onto the food goo covering his plate. It looks almost as if it’s moving, as if it’s morphing into an eye. A large green iris is zeroed in on him, watching his every move, but he shakes his head and rubs at his tired eyes until all that’s on his plate is green slop.

He looks ahead to a wall behind Keith. A plain, simple, bland wall; until it’s not. The wall begins to crack, and plaster falls to the floor. Lance watches with a frown as the wall breaks away, revealing a dark hole. He leans forward, curiosity spiking his blood, but when pointy, red fingers wrap around a sharp edge of the hole, Lance jumps to his feet, chair clattering loudly to the floor behind him.

The room falls silent, and Lance looks to his worried friends then back to the wall that’s, well, just that- a wall.

“Lance?”

Shiro’s voice is thick with worry, and Lance can only shake his head in response. He’s losing it; he’s hallucinating. He needs to leave.

There’s a soft scraping sound and then a second voice, much louder and much closer.

“Lance? Buddy? Are you okay?”

Hunk is standing at Lance’s side, but despite the closeness, Lance feels very far away. The ground is swaying under his feet, and his heart is hammering loudly in his ears.

“Lance. What’s going on?”

Allura this time, and her voice is firm, commanding.

“Nothing,” Lance manages, voice weak and tired. He plasters a smile on his face. “Sorry, I just thought I saw something.”

He turns on his heel with plans to quickly excuse himself from the room, but the room tilts, and instead of walking out, he pitches forward, falling to one knee.

“Lance!”

Hunk is at his side in an instant with a steady hand to his back, and seconds later, Shiro fills the empty space on his other side while the others crowd around him.

“Lance, what’s going on?”

Despite the concern, Shiro’s voice is commanding, and Lance breathes out a low laugh that carries no heart with it.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’m just tired.”

Pidge breathes out a small “oh” that has everyone looking toward her.

“What is it, Pidge?”

Pidge eyes Shiro with a somber gaze. “I had a bad dream last night, and Lance came in and knew before I told him. He stayed with me until I fell back asleep.” She pauses before directly addressing Lance. “You’ve been having nightmares, too. Haven’t you?”

Lance offers one, small nod.

“And you haven’t been sleeping because of it.”

Despite being a statement and not a question, Lance nods once more.

“Lance,” Shiro says, face pinched with worry. “When’s the last time you slept?”

Shit. “Three days ago,” Lance mutters, and a chorus of gasps follow. Seconds later, everyone is talking at once.

“Lance!”

“Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“You know you can talk to us, Lance!”

But, one voice cuts through the frantic flurry of voices. It’s Keith. During the chaos, he crouched down directly in front of Lance and pressed a palm to Lance’s forehead.

“You guys, he’s really warm.”

Everyone falls silent, and Shiro brushes the backs of his fingers across Lance’s cheek with a frown. “He’s definitely got a fever.”

“What does that mean?” Allura questions, not liking the grim faces of the other paladins.

“Ah, Princess,” Coran starts. “Human body temperatures remain at a set range. When that temperature elevates, the human is said to be experiencing what is known as a fever. Often, full body chills and discomfort in the head will accompany this fever.”

“How do we bring the temperature down?” Allura asks, fear laced in her tone.

“He just needs sleep,” Hunk supplies, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, Lance goes rigid under his hand. “Lance?”

“I can’t,” Lance whispers, voice shaking. “I can’t go to sleep.”

“Lance. You need sleep,” Keith presses, but Lance rapidly shakes his head.

“No, you don’t understand. Every time I sleep, you all die!” Tears are slipping down his cheeks, and his entire body is trembling violently. “I don’t want to see it anymore.” His voice cracks, and before he knows what’s happening, he’s being scooped up by Shiro.

“Come with me,” Shiro tells the others as he walks out of the kitchen and into the lounge area with Lance cradled against his chest.

Lance’s mind is a jumbled mess, and he’s having trouble forming words of protest over the loud sobs clawing up his throat. He’s carefully placed onto the couch in the lounge moments later, and he instantly curls into himself.

Shiro barks out a few orders, and minutes later, all of the paladins and Allura and Coran are walking into the room with their blankets and pillows.

Moments later, Lance is being wrapped in blankets, and the others curl up in various places around him soon after.

Shiro takes a spot directly beside Lance, and he lifts Lance until Lance is using his chest as a pillow. Hunk is on Lance’s other side and draped across his back and side. Keith is on Shiro’s free side and is using the latter’s legs as a pillow, and Pidge is curled up against Keith’s chest. On Hunk’s free side, Coran is sitting up right, and Allura is curled up against his side with her legs tucked underneath her.

“What…” Lance tries to get out a sentence, but he’s rendered speechless.

“We are all here,” Shiro starts, “and we are all alive. Sleep. If you wake up because you have a dream of one of us dying, you will see that we are all here, and we are all okay.”

Lance’s eyes well with tears once more, but not because he’s sad or afraid. He nods and snuggles closer to Shiro, falling asleep almost instantly.


	44. Ficlet: "That's not all of my blood, is it?" ft. Klance

In hindsight, Keith should have known that shielding himself from a sharp blade with a hand in front of his face would not end well, but his instincts had kicked in. 

He doesn’t even register the pain at first; it’s as if his hand has gone numb the second the tip of the sharp blade scrapes against it, but after Lance shoots the Galra soldier down, the pain comes rushing at him like a tidal wave. 

Keith clutches his bleeding hand to his chest with a sharp hiss, but seconds later, Lance is in front of him with furrowed brows. 

Lance gently wraps slender fingers around Keith’s wrist and pulls the wounded hand up to his narrowed eyes. He studies the deep, long gash, ignoring the blood sliding down his armored chest. 

“Can you move your fingers?” Lance questions, and while it hurts like hell, Keith manages to wiggle each finger enough to ease the brunet’s worries. 

“Okay,” Lance says slowly, and the next two minutes are spent wrapping Keith’s hand with makeshift bandages made from the clothing of the fallen Galra soldier. 

Despite the pain, Keith keeps his face as composed as possible, and as soon as Lance finishes, he starts out of the room the two are in with Lance hot on his heels. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Keith says as he quickens his pace into a jog while keeping his injured hand cradled to his chest. 

For ten minutes, the two jog through the empty halls of the Galra base. The patter of their feet echo softly against the walls, but after a while, the echoing grows faint. 

Keith slows his pace and glances back to see Lance lagging behind at a slow walk. Keith stops and spins around with a frown. “Lance? What are you doing? I need you to keep up because without my hand, you are my only defense.” 

When Lance moves closer, Keith’s frown deepens. The brunet is panting heavily as if he’s just run a marathon. He’s slick with sweat, and his normally tan skin is an ashen grey. His shoulders are hunched, and he’s dragging his feet as if they weigh a ton. 

“What’s wrong?” Keith asks slowly. His heart is beginning to hammer against his chest as panic swells within his stomach. 

“Nothing,” Lance gasps out. “I’m fine.” 

Keith takes in the blood dripping to the floor at Lance’s feet with narrowed eyes. “Is that my blood still?” 

“Yes,” Lance replies all too quickly, and Keith steps forward, closing the distance between the two. 

“Are you hurt?” Keith asks, and when Lance nods once, Keith’s face scrunches up in worry. 

“Where?” 

“My back.” 

Lance’s voice is hardly a whisper, and Keith moves around Lance, gasping at the sight. 

Lance’s armor is melted off in scattered chunks, revealing a mix of gashes and burns littering his tan skin. There’s blood trickling from various wounds, and Keith breathes out a string of curses. 

“How did this happen?” Keith asks sharply while mentally kicking himself for not catching sight of this earlier.  

“Grabbed Pidge when some bomb went off earlier. Knives came shooting out from the smoke.” 

Keith’s eyes go wide. “Is Pidge…”

“She’s fine. She went with Hunk and Shiro while I came to find you.” 

Keith nods, only allowing himself a brief bout of relief before he turns his attention back to Lance. “Do you think you can make it the rest of the way?” 

Lance swallows back a bout of nausea while nodding. “Yes.” 

The confidence in Lance’s tone, Keith thinks, is unbelievably admirable, but the underlying pain laced within Lance’s voice has Keith placing both hands on Lance’s shoulders from behind the brunet. 

“I don’t want to touch your back,” Keith says as he starts moving forward slowly, gently pushing Lance along. 

“You don’t have to-” Lance tries, only to be cut off by Keith shushing him. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.” 


	45. Klance ft. The Two Captured and Lance Seizing

Helplessness is watching a person you care deeply for deteriorate right before your eyes without having the means to help them.

Desperation is shouting for hours and hours at the top of your lungs for help until your voice is raw and throbbing.

Defeat is knowing that there’s nothing you can do. You’re stuck and forced to live day after day in a small, cold cell. Whatever hope of help coming is replaced with a numbness, a slow realization that this is how your life will end.

“Stop…. Pouting….”

Keith blinks back into reality at Lance’s weak, raspy voice. The latter is using his lap as a pillow, and Keith glances down to meet the brunet’s eyes.

“I’m not.” Keith answers, and despite Lance’s ashen face colored only with a deep flush across his cheeks, the brunet’s face lights up as a breathy laugh escapes.

“You literally… pouted when you… said that.”

On instinct, Keith moves to purse his lips out into a pout, but he catches himself and breathes out a low sigh instead.

He tilts his head back up to stare at the stone ceiling. How many days has it been now? Twelve, maybe? He lost track after Lance stopped eating, too worried to care about anything else but the brunet.

That had been days ago, and all Lance can keep down now are occasional sips of water despite Keith’s protests for him to drink more. The brunet is burning with fever, and he needs all the water he can get.

“You’re thinking… too loud…”

Keith frowns at the way Lance can’t get a full sentence out without having to stop to breathe. The brunet’s lungs are failing; hell, every organ is probably failing by now.

Lance is dying, and there’s not a damn thing Keith can do except be with him to provide what little ounce of comfort he can before the inevitable.

A loud clicking sound pulls Keith from his thoughts, and he narrows his gaze toward the entrance of the cell as a Galra soldier appears.

When the soldier whips out a key, Keith gently eases Lance onto the floor before taking a protective stance in front of him. He’s weaponless, but that’s not going to stop him from fighting tooth and nail if he has to.

When the lock clicks, Keith tenses, and he curls his hands into fists.

“Boss wants you for questioning.”

“Well, that sucks for him because I’m staying right here.”

The solider, slightly faster than Keith, stabs something into Keith’s neck, and Keith’s knees buckle as his vision grows dark. The soldier catches him and hauls him over his shoulder, and the two exit the cell, leaving behind the raw screams of Lance calling out Keith’s name.

*****

A punch to the face. Falling. Shouting. A kick to the stomach. More shouting. A knife to the leg. More shouting.

Crawling. Lance. He has to get back to Lance. A boot to his back. Breathlessness. No.

Lance. Lance. Lance. Lance! Lance! LANCE!

*****

Keith limps beside the Galra solider back to the cell. His body hurts all over, and breathing is becoming increasingly difficult. He can’t see out of one eye, and blood is dripping into the other.

When the two reach the cell’s entrance, Keith’s breath catches in his throat.

Lance is lying on the floor and convulsing. His body is shuddering, limbs drastically tensed up despite the deep tremors.

“Looks like his time is up.” The Galra solider pulls the door open and shoves Keith inside. “We’ll come get his body later.”

Keith ignores his comments in favor of crawling toward Lance. “Lance?” His hands hover above the seizing brunet, unsure of what to do. “Lance, buddy? Come on. You’ve gotta pull through this.”

He gently brushes a shaking hand against Lance’s cheek and breaths out a sharp hiss. The brunet is positively boiling. “Come on, Lance,” he presses, voice trembling as hard as the brunet.

When Lance suddenly goes still, relief washes over Keith. But, when the brunet doesn’t wake up to his persist shaking, the relief fades away to dread in an instance.

“Lance?” He leans forward and presses his ear to Lance’s chest, frowning at the distinct lack of a heartbeat.

“Lance, wait,” his voice cracks, and he shakes the brunet hard as if he can jostle his heart into beating once more. “Lance, please!”

He cups the brunet’s neck. “This isn’t funny, Lance. It’s time to wake up now, okay?”

Lance lies motionless under his touch, and Keith lets out a strangled sob as he pulls the brunet to his chest.

Screams tear out from Keith’s throat. He shouts Lance’s name over and over and over, each one louder than the last.

For minutes, Keith screams, and his mind is so far gone that he can hardly react when something suddenly comes crashing into the wall beside him.

There’s a large flash of blue metal, shouting, and a second crash followed by a giant flash of red metal.

Someone tries to take Lance from Keith, but he only tightens grip. He can hear muffled voices all around him, and then without warning, everything goes black.

*****

When Keith opens his eyes, he’s greeted to a dark ceiling. He shifts his gaze to the right and sees Shiro asleep in a chair, but he keeps looking over, and on the other side of Shiro, he spots Lance in a bed with multiple tubes sticking out of him. To Lance’s other side, Hunk is asleep in a chair with Pidge curled up against his chest.

“Lance,” he whispers as he focuses on the steady rise and fall of Lance’s chest.

Shiro jerks awake at the soft sound, and his eyes light up when he sees Keith awake. “Finally. How are you feeling?”

Keith ignores the question and nods toward Lance. “He’s okay?”

Shiro nods and rubs his hands up and down his face.

Keith can spot the exhaustion clinging to the older man, and he frowns. How long has it been now? His mind is a jumbled mess.

“Why aren’t we in the pods?” He asks slowly. 

“You’ve been in the pods twice, but you wouldn’t wake up despite being healed. Lance can’t go in the pods because they don’t help illness.”

Keith’s frown deepens. Why didn’t he wake up? He shakes his head. That’s not important. Lance is.

“He’s going to be okay?” He asks again, and Shiro’s lips curl up into a soft smile.

“He woke up once a few days ago. He said ‘tell mullet to stop pouting because I’m going to be fine,’ then he fell back to sleep.”

Keith smiles softly, and he keeps his gaze trained on the brunet until sleep takes hold once more.


	46. Ficlet: College AU ft. Sick Pidge and Best Bro Lance

**[From: My Little Pigeon]** _I don’t feel well_

Lance hides his phone under his desk and frowns at the text.

 **[To: My Little Pigeon]** _what’s wrong???_

He glances up to the teacher then back to his phone while he taps his foot impatiently and twirls his pen around as he waits for a reply. However, five minutes pass with no new texts, so he taps out a second text. 

 **[To: My Little Pigeon]** _Pidge?? U okay??_

Another five minutes pass, and Lance is as tense as can be. Worry swells within his chest as his thumbs fly across letters on his phone.

 **[To: My Little Pigeon]** _Katie holt if u don’t answer me I’m gonna assume the worst and call cops, paramedics, firemen, the fbi, everyone Pidge. I’m gonna call everyone if u don’t answer me right now_

When two minutes pass with the only text coming from Hunk, Lance makes a decision. He quietly gathers his things and exits the classroom, shooting the teacher an apologetic wave as he opens the door.

He takes a sharp right and starts toward the math hall. He knows Pidge’s schedule by heart, and he skids to a halt in front of the “Advanced Calculus” classroom only seconds later.

He peeks through the small, glass window with a frown. Pidge isn’t in her usual seat in the back corner, but her bag is.

Bathroom, Lance’s mind supplies, and he takes a quick glance around until he spots a women’s bathroom by a pair of vending machines at the end of the hall.

He approaches the door and hesitates with his hand pressed against it as the “WOMEN” sign stares back at him, but his worry triumphs, and he slowly pushes the door open with a muttered apology.

For a second, the bathroom appears empty and silent, but a sudden loud, gagging sound echoes from the back stall, and Lance’s face falls.

“Pidge?” He asks as he swiftly walks toward the last stall. “Are you okay?”

“Lance?” Pidge questions, voice surprised, but any other words are cut off as she heaves into the toilet once more. 

Lance winces at the sound and places a hand on the cool stall door. “Let me in?”

After a minute, there’s a rustling sound followed by the click of a lock, and Lance slowly pushes the door open to see Pidge scrambling back to the toilet. He watches with furrowed brows as she presses up on her knees and heaves into the toilet again. 

Crouching down, he places a hand to her back and moves it in small circles. The heat radiating from the small girl is alarming, but Lance opts to voice his concern once Pidge isn’t puking her guts out.

For minutes, Pidge fights a losing battle against nausea. At one point, Lance briefly leaves to wet a paper towel. He presses the cold, rough fabric to the back of her neck, and Pidge has just enough time to breathe out a grateful “thanks” before another wave of nausea has her retching into the toilet.

Three times the bathroom door opens, and Lance hears disgusted female voices followed by the door slamming closed. Fuckers, he thinks to himself. 

Finally, after a long ten minutes, Pidge stops, and she flushes the toilet and allows Lance to pull her to her feet and out of the stall.

Lance walks her to a sink, and as she rinses her mouth out, he studies her.

While she’s normally as pale as can be, her complexion matches that of a ghost. There’s a grayish tinge mixing with a crimson flush colored across her cheeks. She’s also slick with sweat, but her entire body is shaking.

When she turns to him, he doesn’t hesitate to press a palm to her forehead, not surprised to find it burning.

“You’re sick.”

“You’re in the girl’s bathroom.”

Lance tilts his head and puffs out his chest. “I would cross the deepest of rivers for you, my little Pigeon!”

Pidge rolls her eyes, and she wants to laugh, but her cramping stomach has her glancing back to the stall with nervous eyes. 

Lance catches on, face dropping back into a frown. “Okay, let’s get you back to your dorm.” He grabs her wrist and starts quickly toward the door with the mindset of the faster the better, but she grinds to a halt, and Lance turns around with just enough time to see her throw up down her chest. 

“Pidge,” he says softly, but she jerks her wrist from his hand and turns toward the sink, gripping the edges and bowing her head.

Lance watches her shoulders shake, and he knows she’s crying. Do something, his mind yells, and he drops his bag to the floor, shrugs out of his jacket then slips his shirt off.

“Here,” he says softly, and she looks up with welling eyes, but the silent question is still there.

“Just until we can get you back to your dorm.”

She nods and takes the shirt into a stall. Seconds later, she comes out with her dirty shirt balled up in her hands. Lance’s blue shirt hangs down to just above her knees, but he figures it’s enough until they get her back to the dorm.

Pidge shoves the balled up shirt in her backpack then shoulders it and staggers slowly toward the exit, but Lance stops her with a hand to her shoulder.

“Lance, what-”

Lance slides his bag from his back then crouches in front of Pidge with his back to her. “Hop on. You look like you can barely stand.”

Too tired to decline, Pidge slowly climbs onto Lance’s back and drops her face against his shoulder as he slowly stands and starts out the bathroom.

“I feel like death,” she mutters, and Lance nods sympathetically.

“Never fear,” he mutters, voice light and soft. “Mighty Man Lance is here to save you.”


	47. Keith Suffering Through a Rough Galra Transformation

Keith wakes up one morning feeling slightly run down. A dull ache pulses behind his eyes, and his limbs feel heavy. But, it’s fine, he thinks to himself as he gets out of bed to get ready for the day. He can manage.

Breakfast is loud and bright, maybe a little too loud and too bright. Or, Keith thinks, maybe he underestimated how he’s really feeling. He can make out each sound: forks clinking against plates, Lance choking on food goo while laughing at something Hunk says, Shiro’s quiet sighs. Each sound grates against his ears, and pair that with blinding lights that feel like miniature suns boiling his blood, and he can feel himself growing frustrated as the headache from this morning strengthens in intensity.

Everything is suddenly too much, and Keith politely excuses himself, leaving his untouched food as he books it to the training deck.

*****

The training deck is blessedly silent when Keith walks in, and he shrugs out of his jacket, ties his hair back, and calls for the simulation to start while he twists his body and lightly bounces on his feet in preparation.

He goes through the first two levels with ease, and he expects the third to be the same. But, he finds himself struggling. He’s taken a metal-clad foot to the ribs, a fist to the eye, and he’s been tossed against the wall four times.

He’s just pushing up from the floor on shaking arms when the robot pounces in his direction, and he has just enough time to bring one arm up as a poor attempt to shield himself when a loud voice yells “Simulation off!”

Keith drops his arm and watches robot fade away right before landing on him, and seconds later, Shiro and Lance are crouching in front of him.

“Keith, are you crazy? You could have been seriously hurt!” Shiro’s shouts, face scrunched in concern. 

Keith rolls his eyes and ignores the hand extended out to help him up as he struggles to his feet. For a second, dark spots dance across his vision, and he staggers forward until Shiro’s hands clamp down onto his shoulders.

“Keith?”

“No offense, dude, but you look paler than normal.” Lance adds, voice laced with worry. 

Keith shakes his head to chase away the darkness and then looks between the two boys before he caves and rubs his hands up and down his face with a sigh. “I think I may be coming down with something.” Admitting it out loud is a little harder than he expected, but he can’t ignore the symptoms anymore.

To Keith’s surprise, Lance steps forward and places one palm to Keith’s forehead and the other to his own, lips pressed in a straight line as his eyes narrow in focus.

“You’re not feverish,” Lance finally says as he moves both hands to his side. “Your skin is kinda cool, actually.”

“Are you cold?” Shiro asks, and Keith shakes his head with a frown.

“I’m warm actually.” He presses the back of his hand to his cheek with furrowed brows. Realistically, his skin should be on the warmer side since he’s been exerting himself, but true to Lance’s word, his skin is cool to the touch.

“Maybe you should just rest for the day,” Shiro suggests, and Keith nods in agreement.

“Yeah. I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

*****

Keith is pulled from sleep by his stomach churning violently. He sits up in bed and blinks against the darkness as he presses one hand to his stomach with a frown.

It’s been years since he’s gotten sick enough to throw up, and for a moment, he thinks that maybe the twisting in his stomach is just a fluke; however, a painful cramp suddenly spreading across his abdomen has him flinging his legs over the bed and staggering blindly to the bathroom.

His knees crash hard against the tiled floor, and seconds later, he’s hunching over the toilet and heaving. A metallic tastes fills his mouth, and he glances into the toilet to see blood staining the clear water- only blood.

He frowns, and when his stomach settles some, he leans back and goes to massage his throat, but his hand freezes when he feels how icy his skin is. It’s a drastic difference compared to how hot he’s feeling. He had woken up hours earlier to strip down to nothing but his boxers because the heat was stifling. 

Another wave of nausea washes over him suddenly, and he presses up on his knees and heaves into the toilet once more. Thick, red blood spews out from his mouth and splashes into the toilet water. 

Panic mixes with nausea when he flushes the toilet minutes later, and he crawls away from the toilet as if trying to flee from the current problem he’s facing. He tries to think, but he can’t come up with a logical reason as to why he’s throwing up blood because his head his throbbing too hard to work toward a coherent thought.

But, there’s one thing that’s alarmingly clear: he needs help. He glances toward the door, but a second later, searing pain shoots across his left foot that leaves him gasping and clutching at it. It feels as if his bones are breaking and resetting in the middle of large, burning flames of fire. 

Everything is too hot. Too painful. He’s breaking and boiling. 

Ice. He needs ice.

He weakly crawls into the shower and cuts it on as cold as it will go then curls up against a shower wall while under the spray. It feels cold, but it’s not enough. He’s still too hot.

Sudden, piercing, snapping pain shoots up his left leg, and he screams while shoving his head back against the shower wall. Tears spring in his eyes, and he screams and screams through clenched teeth as the pain shoots up to his left thigh.

The bathroom door slams open, and seconds later, a panicked voice rings out. “Keith!?”

“Nnngh, Lance,” Keith grits out, chest heaving as he sucks in gasping breaths.

“What’s happening?!” Lance crouches right in front of the shower and reaches out to place a hand on Keith’s arm, but the icy drops have him recoiling his arm with a sharp hiss. “Keith, the water is freezing! What are you doing?!”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m boiling,” he manages out, voice strained. “And-” His words cut off as pain shoots across his left arm, and he tenses up, turns his face away to press his forehead against the shower wall, and screams.

“Keith!” Lance moves under the shower spray, shivering instantly. He watches the way Keith’s arm muscles push up against the skin as if trying to break free, and his eyes go wide when he spots Keith’s normally pale skin colored with a purplish color. One quick glance down shows Keith’s left foot and left leg shaded the same color.

“Fuck!” Keith’s yells as he jerks a hand to his neck, and he digs his nails into his neck, piercing the skin. 

“I…I don’t… Keith!?” Lance presses hands to Keith’s chilled shoulders just as the red paladin’s face drains of color while his entire body stiffens. 

Keith can’t blink away the darkness spreading across his vision, and seconds later, he slumps forward, with the faint sound of Lance screaming his name falling against deaf ears.

*****

When Keith opens his eyes, he’s met with six pairs of eyes staring at him with varying looks of concern and surprise.

“Um?” He rasps out. 

Pidge wordlessly holds up a hand mirror, and Keith gasps at the cold, yellow eyes paired with longer, shaggy hair and purple skin staring back at him.

“Fuck.”

“Okay, don’t panic,” Shiro starts, but it’s too late for Keith. 

Keith pushes up into a sitting position, and presses up impossibly close to the wall beside his bed. “No. No! You guys should leave! I could hurt you!”

“Keith-”

Keith cuts Hunk off with a strangled groan. “Please, you all have to leave! I don’t want to hurt you!” He draws his knees to his chest, making himself impossibly small while he silently wishes that the wall would open and swallow him whole. 

“Keith,” Allura starts, voice calm. “You need to calm down.” 

“No!” Keith screams, and he digs his sharp nails into his arms. “Leave! All of you! I’m going to hurt-”

“You aren’t going to hurt us!” 

Everyone freezes as Lance breathes out a measured breath then continues. “You could never hurt us. We trust you, Keith. Have a little trust in yourself.” 

Keith goes to shake his head, to protest, but he’s cut off when Lance climbs onto the bed and wraps slender arms around his trembling frame. 

“You aren’t going to hurt us,” Lance repeats, voice barely above a whisper, and after a few seconds, Keith melts into his touch. 

“What am I going to do?” He asks quietly, and Pidge steps forward. 

“We’ve already ran some tests, and we’re currently working out a medicine that will force you to transfer back.” 

“It will be quite unpleasant,” Coran adds with a frown, and Keith nods knowingly. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he mutters, and Lance’s arms tighten around him. 

There’s some soft murmuring, and then the others bid quiet goodbyes with promises to return later, leaving Lance and Keith alone. 

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” Keith mumbles against Lance’s neck, and Lance abruptly pulls away but keeps his hands locked onto Keith’s shoulders. 

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still you, and that’s all that matters.” 


	48. Ficlet: Keith So Sick He Has To Ask For Help

Keith doesn’t wear vulnerability well; that’s why he pushes through injuries and illnesses as if nothing is wrong. To him, succumbing to an ailment is as good as any sign of weakness, and he’s not weak. No. He’s spent the better half of his life consistently proving to others that he’s strong, capable.

He’s lasted his entire life thus far not once asking for help, but today… Today is different. He wakes up with a damp shirt clinging to his trembling frame. His bangs are plastered to his forehead that’s pounding in time with his rapid heartbeat. He’s both hot and cold, and his chest hurts. With each inhale, he can hear his lungs crackle, and when he exhales, he’s left sputtering out weak coughs into his fist.

Getting out of bed is tasking, and when he’s finally on his feet, he’s hunched over, panting and coughing as if he’s just ran a marathon.

He forgoes changing into his clothes for the day as he shuffles out of his room. Walking is just as hard, if not harder, then getting out of bed. He feels as if he’s walking underwater, struggling against a current as his surroundings bob and sway.

Sweat slides down his temples despite the soft tremors spiking across his body, and by the time he staggers into the dining room, he’s practically dead on his feet.

The room falls silent when, instead of a verbal greeting, Keith announces his introduction in the form of harsh, grating coughs that leave him braced up against the door frame to keep from toppling over.

“Keith?” Shiro questions, concerned. 

“You okay, buddy?” Lance questions slowly. 

“What are those sounds coming from his mouth? Is that normal?” Allura asks, eyes darting between Keith and Shiro. 

Keith catches his breath and looks across at all of his friends eating breakfast. “Sorry,” he wheezes out. “I just…. I…. I don’t feel well. Is there medicine or something?”

For a moment, no one moves or breathes, but like a whistle indicating the start of a race, everyone starts at once.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro starts.

“You look so pale!” Pidge shouts, worried.

“Are you sick?” Hunk questions with a frown.

“Is this what a human illness looks like?” Allura asks, eyes narrow as if deep in thought.

Keith sags against the door frame as if the shouting and questions physically push him back against it. Each heightened tone is a knife driving through his head, and he winces and recoils with his eyes screwed shut until there’s a shushing sound followed by a gentle hand to his forehead.

There’s a sharp hiss, and then the hand is gone. Keith slowly opens his eyes to meet Shiro’s worried ones.

“You’re running a hell of a fever, Keith.”

Keith hums in agreement before turning to cough weakly into his fist. With each second, standing is becoming more and more challenging, and everyone’s voices are flowing in and out of focus.

“I don’t think we have medicine here.” Hunk says.

“I could try and make some?” Pidge suggests.

“He just needs some good, old-fashioned TLC.” Lance says, voice confident.

“What’s TLC? Is that a medicine?” Coran asks.

“Ah, something like that,” Lance replies with a teasing grin.

“Okay, guys,” Shiro starts while eyeing Keith worriedly. “How about we set up the lounge?”

Keith catches that clearly, but before he has a chance to question why the lounge, he’s pushed into a dining chair while the others run off. Shiro returns minutes later and helps him into the lounge, and his eyes widen at the sight.

There are blankets and pillows covering the couch, and before Keith can register what’s happening, Lance is walking toward him and wrapping a large blanket around him before leading him over to the couch with an arm wrapped around his waist.

Keith falls against the couch, and seconds later, he’s being pulled to Hunk’s side. Hunk instantly begins carding fingers through his hair while the others offer water and general comfort.

Keith takes a few sips of water before snuggling closer to Hunk’s side while the latter continues stroking fingers through his hair.

He can hear soft chattering and dips in the couch as the others gather around, and despite his entire body rebelling against him in the form of some nasty illness, he drifts off with a smile painted across his lips.


	49. Klance Playing in the Snow ft. Sick Keith

Lance chucks a snowball in Keith’s direction and nails the latter square in the back with a loud whoop.

Keith tenses on impact then turns toward Lance, snowball in hand and eyes narrowed dangerously.

Lance has about two seconds to run before Keith is on him like a bullet. The two topple to the ground, and Keith takes his snowball and shoves it down Lance’s shirt.

Lance yelps loudly as icy snow slowly slides down his bare back, and he harshly shrugs Keith from his back, leaving the latter lying in the snow beside him.

“That wasn’t fair!” Lance accuses while wrapping his arms around himself with little hope of fending off his shivering.

“Payback,” Keith mutters back, panting hard and massaging his temples. His head had been throbbing since he was pulled from sleep this morning by Lance’s loud voice shouting about the snow, and it’s gotten to the point where even slight movements feel as if screws are drilling into his brain.

“You know you are having fun, Keith. You can’t deny that this snow is perfect!” Lance sits up and slides his hands through the fluffy snow beneath them. He smiles as his fingers move against it with ease.

“We’ve been out here for hours, though,” Keith points out as he closes his eyes against the blinding white snow further irritating his head.

“Igloos take time!” Lance looks back toward the igloo he and Keith slaved away on for two hours when they first got out here. It’s been a dream of his to make an igloo, build a snowman, have a snowball fight, just generally experience snow.

Where he comes from, snow is just a concept seen on TV. Every winter, he would keep his eyes trained on the window to see if it would snow, but the temperature would never dip below 70 degrees. Snow is an impossible dream where he’s from, so when it came time to pick a college, he went with one way up north, and it has yet to disappoint.

Their igloo is solid thanks to Lance’s dabbling in architecture paired with Keith’s previous experience with Shiro. It can fit the two of them easily.

“Well, what’s next on your big snow day list?” Keith asks, rolling onto his side to get a better look at the brunet.

Lance thinks for a moment, but his eyes widen as if a light bulb clicks on above his head. “Sledding!” He turns to Keith just as Keith groans, flops onto his back, and drapes one arm over his eyes.

Sledding, Keith thinks, sounds exhausting. He doesn’t want to disappoint Lance since this is the latter’s first snow, but he’s not sure how much longer he can go. A deep ache is starting to settle in his bones, and he’s concerned at how nice the snow has been feeling against his face while the rest of his body is a shivery mess that no longer knows the meaning of warmth.

“We don’t have sleds,” Keith points out, holding back the small detail that Shiro does.

“Doesn’t Shiro have some?” Lance questions, and Keith inwardly curses while nodding. Of course Lance would know that. 

“I’ll get them!” Lance shouts while hopping to his feet! Above him, fluffy snowflakes begin to fall once more. “At this rate, we will be out of class all week,” Lance comments, more to himself, as he starts back toward the dorms.

Keith sits up and watches Lance leave. He desperately wants to go with the brunet, but right now, he’s not sure he could even make it that far. Their igloo is right beside him, and it’s less than ideal. But, Keith thinks as he begins crawling into it, it’s shelter from the snow fall above him.

That’s gotta be a plus, right?

When Keith is inside, he curls up against one wall, drawing his knees close to his chest. He’s suddenly very tired, another trigger that’s all but screaming that he’s sick, so he closes his eyes. A small nap can’t hurt.

*****

When Lance returns, he frowns at Keith’s absence. “Keith?” He calls out, glancing around. He eyes the igloo with a tilt of his head before he drops the sleds and starts toward it, with faint voices of other students coming outside trailing behind him.

He crawls through the small tunnel and spots Keith fast asleep when he reaches the opening. “Really, Mullet?” When Keith doesn’t stir, Lance moves closer with a huff. “Mullet,” he tries again, clapping his gloved hands in front of Keith’s face.

Still, Keith remains motionless in front of him, and a spike of worry shoots through Lance. “Keith?” He lightly shakes Keith, but the latter only groans and pinches his face up against the slight jostling.

“Keith, buddy?” Lance takes a gentler route and brushes Keith’s bangs away with gloved fingers. Even through the fabric covering his hand, Lance can feel an uncomfortable heat radiating from his friend, and he leans forward to get a better look.

He takes in Keith’s flushed cheeks paired with a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead with a deep frown. “Keith,” Lance says, voice urgent but shaking. He pulls one glove off and cups a hand to Keith’s burning cheek. “Keith, wake up.”

He briefly slides a hand to Keith’s forehead to confirm that Keith is running a nasty fever before moving his hand back to pat Keith’s cheek. “Come on, Keith. Wake up.”

Finally, Keith stirs, and Lance lets out a sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding.

“Hey,” Lance says gently when Keith’s eyes flutter open. “We’ve gotta get you back to the dorm. You’re burning up.” His voice is thick with worry, and Keith only blinks up slowly at him.

“Sleds?” Keith rasps out, and Lance shoots a soft smile.

“Not today, Keith. You’re really sick.” He trails the backs of his fingers softly down Keith’s heated cheeks. “Did this just come on?” He questions, wondering how Keith got so sick so fast.

Keith shrugs and pushes himself up on one trembling arm to cough harshly into his fist. Well that’s new, he thinks to himself. “Wasn’t feeling great since this morning.”

When Lance’s face falls at his words, Keith mentally kicks himself. “No, Lance. I wanted to come out here and experience this with you no matter what.”

Lance shakes his head. “You should have said something.” He eyes the entrance before turning back to Keith. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Keith can’t read Lance’s face, and it’s driving him up a wall, but he nods and starts following Lance out of the igloo. His mind is running a mile a minute despite his pounding head, and he’s so distracted that he ends up bumping into Lance, who is frozen in front of him.

“Lance?”

Suddenly, the tunnel directly in front of Lance caves in as voices flood in from outside.

_“God, you’re such a klutz! You ruined someone’s igloo!”_

_“You pushed me!”_

Lance stares hard at the thick snow keeping them from getting out, and then he shouts.

“Hey, wait! We’re in here!” He listens for a response, but he’s met only with the sound of wind whipping harshly outside. “Shit,” he says at the same time Keith mutters out a clipped “fuck” behind him.

Both Lance and Keith begin digging since their phones are safe in their dorm, but after five minutes, Lance orders Keith to stop and rest when the latter can’t go two seconds without coughing. 

Lance ushers Keith back to the one room behind them, and Keith instantly curls against a wall, teeth clacking together as strong shivers course through his body. 

Lance takes his glove off once more and presses his palm to Keith’s forehead, frowning deeply at the heat that appears impossibly hotter than before. He crawls back some and sheds his coat, ignoring Keith’s weak protests. 

“You’ll get cold.” Keith tries when Lance drapes his coat over Keith. 

“No I won’t,” Lance reassures as he tucks the jacket around Keith. “I’m already a little warm from the digging, so I’ll be fine.” 

“Let me,” Keith pauses to cough harshly, “help.” He goes to sit up, but Lance pushes him back gently with a hand to his covered chest. 

Shaking his head, Lance shoots Keith a wide grin despite feeling anything but happy. “I’ve got this, Keith. Just rest, okay?” 

Keith seems hesitant, but he can’t stop shivering and his surroundings are swimming in and out of focus, so he nods and curls up into a tight ball while Lance gets back to work. 

*****

For an hour, Lance digs. He’s growing frustrated because this shouldn’t have taken that long, but every time he thinks he’s going to find a breakthrough, he’s met with another wall of snow. It must be coming down pretty hard outside, he thinks while panting. He’s tired, exhausted even, but he can’t stop. 

The two times he went back to check on Keith, he found the latter growing steadily worse: he’s shivering so hard Lance briefly wondered if it’s possible to be hypothermic with a fever, and his coughing is becoming more intense with each passing second. Each cough sounds as if it’s building deep within Keith’s lungs, and Lance tenses as Keith coughs and coughs. 

He has to get them out. He doesn’t want to be dramatic, but it’s turning into a matter of survival, and he uses this drive alone to keep digging. 

After another thirty minutes, his hand breaks through, and he carefully continues breaking mounds of snow around until there’s an opening big enough to fit one person. He has to be quick for the snow is falling hard outside, so he crawls back to Keith and has to shake the latter awake. 

“Keith, come on. We’re getting out.” 

“Lance?” 

Lance swallows back the concern forming as a pit in his throat. “Yeah, it’s me. Are you ready? We have to hurry.” 

Blinking slowly, Keith nods. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but the urgency in Lance’s tone is enough to tell him that he should obey. He slowly starts to move the jacket covering him away, but Lance steps in to quicken the process. 

Lance grabs the coat then ushers Keith in front of him. He wants Keith to get out first. No, Keith needs to get out first. 

Keith is slow moving in front of him, and Lance bites back any replies to hurry. He knows how hard this must be for Keith, so instead of being abrasive, he chants out words of encouragement as Keith slowly crawls in front of him. 

When they reach the opening, Lance breathes out a sigh of relief while he helps Keith up and out. He watches with bated breath as Keith topples to the ground as soon as he’s out and then breathes out a quiet curse before climbing out of the small opening after him. 

Outside, the wind is fierce, and the snow falling with it almost hurts as it whips against Lance’s skin, but he couldn’t care at all right now. His priority is Keith, and he’s just in the middle of helping Keith up when he hears a voice trail across the wind. 

“Lance!?” 

Lance snaps his head to the right and squints against the wind to see Shiro starting toward them. “Thank you,” he breathes out to no one in particular when Shiro closes the distance between them.

“Are you two insane?! They are calling for a massive blizzard!” Shiro pauses, studying Lance’s thin, long-sleeve shirt. “Why aren’t you wearing your jacket?” Shiro’s statements and questions bounce harshly from his tongue, but Lance only waves them away. 

“None of that matters!” He doesn’t mean to shout, but the wind is picking up and drowning out his voice. “Get Keith! He’s really sick!” 

Shiro frowns and moves toward Keith. “What happened!?” 

Lance only shakes his head and gestures for Shiro to pick Keith up. 

“Shiro!” 

Hunk’s voice carries across the wind, and Lance could cry when he spots his friend coming toward them. “Hunk!” 

Hunk’s face scrunches up in worry, and he runs the rest of the way to the group. “Lance, hey! What’s going on!?” 

Shiro already has Keith bundled up in his own jacket and cradled in his arms, and Lance is quick to pick up his abandoned coat and add it on top. 

“Keith’s really sick!” Lance explains just as Shiro starts back to the dorms with Keith. With the adrenaline gone, he’s starting to really feel the cold wind paired with icy snow, and his limbs hurt from being crouched and digging for so long. He doesn’t even know he’s falling until he lands against Hunk’s big, warm chest. 

Hunk is quick to lift Lance into his arms, and Lance presses himself impossibly close to the body heat. 

“I’ve got you, buddy.” Hunk says, and despite the wind, Lance catches every word. 

Lance breathes out a shaking breath and nuzzles his face against Hunk’s shoulder, and Hunk responds by tightening his hold on Lance. 

“Everything’s going to be okay now.” 


	50. Summer Camp Counselors AU ft. Sick Keith and Lance Taking on Keith's Work (Birthday Fic)

When Lance’s alarm goes off, he wakes with a big stretch, arms extending far above his head. His bones crack and pop, and he yawns wide as if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Despite this, he feels refreshed.

And that’s the beauty of summer camp counseling.

For six years, Lance has been giving his summers to “Altea: A Summer Full of Magic.” Many people ask him, “Why work as a camp counselor? You’re an adult now.” And Lance always replies with the same answer: “ Because I love it.”

There’s something about the disconnect that comes from being stowed away in small cabins in the woods that he loves. He yearns to breathe in the crisp summer air that has yet to be polluted by the likes of a bustling city, and he itches to dive into the cool crystal clear lakes that surround the cabins.

But most of all, he loves watching as the kids grow to accept and even enjoy their time at the camp. It’s always great seeing the pouting faces when the parents drop them off turn to smiling ones eager to return next year.

Lance rolls his shoulders as he swings his legs over the bed, eager to start the day. He’s got his kids on swimming lessons today, which is easily his favorite lesson. 

“Lance. Alarm.”

Ah, and there’s Keith. Keith has only been camp counseling with Lance for three years now. He’s, Lance thinks, a work in progress.

When Keith first started counseling, the kids feared him. He would walk the paths with a scowl etched across his lips, and he would pair this with sharp, narrow eyes.

It took Lance weeks and weeks of teaching before Keith could grasp that in order for his kids to trust him and obey him, he needs to come off as more approachable and less ‘I hate the world.’

Lance worked closely with Keith, and after a while, the kids started to warm up to Keith and Keith began to actually enjoy himself and smile more, which Lance found as a great thing because there was something in the way that Keith smiled that left him breathless.

Lance presses the off button on the chiming alarm then glances toward the lump in the bed beside his, smile dropping to a frown at the harsh trembling.

“Uh, Keith? You okay, dude? You’re shaking.” Lance stands, floor creaking loudly underneath his feet.

“It’s fu-” Keith cuts himself off with a low sigh. “It’s really cold in here.”

Lance looks around with raised brows. It’s hot, which makes logical sense because it’s summer. Even at night, the temperature fails to dip below 75 degrees. None of the cabins are equipped with AC; all they offer are ceiling fans that only spin slow enough to not even make a difference.

“It’s not,” Lance says, tone tipping upward almost as if asking a question.

Keith rolls away from facing the wall and props himself up on one shaking elbow to meet Lance’s eyes, and oh…. Oh.

Lance takes in the red splotches coloring high on Keith’s cheeks paired with the thin sheen of sweat leaving Keith’s bangs sticking to his forehead with a frown. He steps forward and crouches down until he’s eye level with the shivering boy.

Lance and Keith never touched each other much, only to swat a bug from the other’s back or high five when their teams dominated while against Shiro’s and Matt’s teams, so he is incredibly cautious when he cups a steady hand to Keith’s neck. The heat is alarming, and he moves his hand more quickly up to Keith’s forehead, swiping the latter’s bangs aside to palm his forehead. Fever, Lance thinks.

“You’re running a fever,” he voices, tone laced with worry.

“That would explain why I feel like sh-” Keith cuts himself off once more and clenches his teeth. “Crap,” he finishes.

Normally Lance would laugh at Keith struggling through the ‘no cursing’ rule, but his concern for Keith holds his entire focus.

“You can’t lead today’s activities like this,” Lance says, and to his surprise, Keith agrees by falling back against the pillows with a weak cough.

“I know,” Keith groans, draping his arms across his eyes.

Lance gnaws at his lower lip. He’s got to do something. “I can take your kids.”

Keith lifts his arm up and glances at Lance with furrowed brows. “You can’t. What about your kids?”

It will be hard, Lance thinks, but he could probably manage. “I can handle it. We can all just join up.”

“That’s a lot of kids to look after.” Keith presses, concern coloring his tone.

Lance slaps a smile on his face. “Keith, you seem to forget that the kids love me!” He turns to gather his clothes, but he can feel Keith’s narrow eyes boring a hole in his back. He starts toward the door but pauses and glances over his shoulder.

“I’ve got this, Keith. Just rest. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”

He pushes open the screen door and bolts out of the cabin before Keith can voice the protest that is on the tip of his tongue.

*****

It takes three hours before Lance manages to get Hunk and Pidge to watch his kids so he can check on Keith.

With his arms full of food, water bottles, and medicine, Lance struggles to open the cabin door. He finds Keith exactly where he left him, shivering under now both his and Lance’s blankets in what appears to be a fitful sleep.

Lance places the stuff for Keith on his bed before turning to crouch beside Keith’s bed. Feeling bold, he brushes his knuckles against Keith’s cheek, only to jerk his hand away when Keith hisses and snaps his face away.

“Your hands are freezing,” Keith mutters, cracking his eyes open to meet Lance’s worry-filled eyes.

“No, you’re just burning up,” Lance supplies, concern evident in his tone. Keith’s skin is frighteningly hot, even more so than this morning. “I brought food and medicine.”

Keith recoils at the word ‘food.’ He shakes his head. “I can’t eat.”

“Just a little bit,” Lance says, turning away to grab a piece of toast, a water bottle, and a few pills. When he turns back, he spots Keith struggling into a sitting position.

“Fine, but if I throw up on you, I’m not gonna apologize.”

Lance breathes out a small laugh and takes a spot on the edge of Keith’s bed. “You’re surprisingly compliant when sick.” He hands Keith the toast and water.

Keith takes a bite of the toast, face scrunching up as he chews slowly. “No energy to argue.”

Lance hums sympathetically and pats Keith’s covered leg.

The two fall into silence as Keith struggles through the piece of toast. He manages half before he physically can’t take another bite, and Lance can tell by the sweat sliding down Keith’s temples.

Lance takes the toast and offers the pills and water, both of which Keith takes greedily- anything to feel better. He downs the pills with a few gulps of water then allows Lance to tuck the blankets back around him when he lies back down.

“I’ll be back,” Lance says, but his words fall against deaf ears for Keith has already lost the battle he’s been fighting against sleep.

*****

It’s another three hours before Lance can find someone to watch his and Keith’s kids so he can sneak away to peek in on Keith.

He’s quiet when he opens the cabin door, and he creeps across the floor to hover over Keith’s sleeping form. He studies the steady rise and fall of Keith’s chest and dares to lightly brush his fingertips across Keith’s cheek. Still warm, he thinks with a slight frown, but maybe but not as warm as before.

His eyes shift to the empty water bottle beside the bed, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. At least Keith is doing his part by keeping hydrated and resting.

Wordlessly, he exits the cabin and heads back to the kids.

*****

At dinner, Shiro tells Lance to grab his food and go. When Lance reminds Shiro that he’s got to make sure all of the kids get back to their cabins in one piece, Shiro assures him that he and Matt can handle it.

Lance tries to protest, but Shiro shoves two to-go boxes of food in his arms and ushers him out the door.

Lance drags his feet as he makes the slow trek back to his cabin. He’s utterly exhausted, and his throat is throbbing from all of the shouting he’s been doing all day. His muscles hurt from running after kids, and he’s practically soaked with sweat.

When he reaches the cabin, he’s surprised to find the light on. A spike of worry shoots through him, and he skips steps up the porch, but before he can pull the door open, he freezes.

Through the screen, he can see Keith standing beside his bed, changing shirts. His eyes fall onto Keith’s back, and he finds himself getting lost within Keith’s muscles that swell against pale skin.

“Lance?”

Lance blinks and swallows down a gulp before he pulls the door open. “Uh, hey.”

“You look exhausted,” Keith says sharply with concern evident in his tone.

Lance shrugs. “I’m okay. How are you? You’re looking better.”

Keith rubs at his neck before taking a spot on the edge of his bed. “Better. Not 100% but getting there.”

Lance crosses the floor to set the food boxes atop his mattress before taking a spot beside Keith. He holds a hand up to Keith’s face and tilts his head. “May I?”

Keith only shrugs in response, so Lance gently presses the back of his hand to Keith’s cheek. The heat of the fever is still evident, but it’s cooled down significantly.

He draws his hand back. “You’re still a little warm. You should probably take more medicine before you go to sleep.”

“I will,” Keith says, but when Lance goes to stand, he leans forward and grabs the brunet’s wrist.

Lance freezes mid-stand and looks toward Keith with furrowed brows. “Keith-”

“So, I just wanted to say thanks. It looks like those kids wore you out, so I’m sure it wasn’t easy. So, yeah. Just- thanks.” Keith let Lance’s wrist go, and Lance smiles.

“They were a handful, but we had fun,” he admits before he breathes out a loud “oh!”

Keith arches a brow as Lance shrugs out of his backpack. He leans forward to peek into the bag as Lance digs around until he pulls out a stack of cards held together by a rubber-band.

“The kids made you get well cards,” Lance says with a cheeky smile. He passes the stack to Keith, and Keith catches him off guard by shooting him a wide grin.

Lance’s breath catches in his throat as he takes in Keith’s smile paired with bright, glimmering eyes only holding a slight trace of illness.

“Get the food and come over here,” Keith commands lightly. “You can help me read through these.”

Lance turns away, heart hammering hard against his chest as he struggles to get a breath in through trembling lungs. When he gathers the food boxes and turns back toward Keith, he finds the latter still smiling while flipping through the cards.

Damn, Lance thinks as he pushes through his nerves and starts back toward Keith’s bed. He loves summer camp.


	51. Ficlet: Sick Hunk

When Hunk wakes to the feeling of an invisible wall of ice pressing down on his chest and spreading slowly across his arms and legs, seeping through his skin to cling uncomfortably to his bones, his fuzzy mind supplies the most logical reasoning: he’s sick.

He would never say that he’s immune to illness, but the last time he had been struck down with an actual virus, as opposed to throwing up from a sensitive stomach, he was eight.

He’s not surprised really. Lance and Pidge had been fighting a losing battle against the flu over the last few days, and he, Keith, and Shiro had been running nonstop to tend to the two. It was only a matter of time until the illness caught up to him.

In hindsight, he thinks as he swings his legs over the bed, he doesn’t feel too terrible, not nearly as bad as Lance and Pidge, who both couldn’t get out of bed. He’s able to shower and change normally, albeit moving a little slower than usual, but he’s not suffering as he stands and moves about.

Sure, his head hurts, he’s chilled through, and he’s given up on being able to breathe through his nose, but he can manage. For now.

He walks down to breakfast, and the second he pushes the door open, the loud chattering dies, and everyone turns to him with varying looks of surprise and concern. It takes his mind a moment to process what’s wrong: there’s only one chair empty at the table, and that chair is his.

“Uh, morning,” he says with a sheepish smile as he rubs at the back of his neck. “Guess I’m a little late, huh?”

He’s not sure who to look at, but he’s feeling uncomfortable. It feels as if every set of eyes are pinning him against the wall, and he can’t move toward his seat. He’s about to brush of the staring with a joke when a tickle in his nose as him turning away to sneeze into the crook of his elbow.

Not even a second later, the room falls into a flurry of activity: spoons are clinking against bowls, chairs are scraping against the tiled floor, and voices are overlapping.

“I knew it! I told you he’s sick!”

“That’s exactly how my flu started.”

“So we are going to have another paladin out of commission for a few days?”

Hunk wants to offer his own input, but before he can get a peep in, Shiro is in front of him with furrowed brows.

“Are you okay?”

Hunk lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m maybe a little sick, but I’m-” Before he can finish, Shiro’s untying Hunk’s bandana and placing a cool palm to his forehead, frowning on contact.

“You’re warm.”

Hunk breathes out a shaky laugh, a stark contrast against Shiro’s worried tone. “Guess it’s not good that I’m feeling cold then, huh?”

Shiro’s frown deepens just as Lance approaches, hands cupping his elbows and eyes downcast.

“Hunk, buddy. This is my fault. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Hunk blinks in surprise and shakes his head. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It was bound to happen.”

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

Shiro begins ushering Hunk out of the room, but he takes a second to glance over his shoulder and shoot the others a toothy grin. “I’ll be fine guys!”

*****

Two hours later finds Hunk lying in the middle of his bed with Lance and Pidge on either side. It’s a tight squeeze, but the three are well-accustomed to sharing a single bed from previous experiences at the Garrison.

The heightened flu symptoms are starting to hit Hunk full force, but he will take a few days if discomfort if it means lying in bed with two of his favorite people.

He would endure just about anything for these paladins…. For his new family.


	52. Lance With a Fever High Enough To Warrant a Seizure

Coran swiftly walks down the hall, the click of his heels echoing softly against the walls. He’s got his hands locked together behind his back as he sharply turns corners, making his way to check on Lance.

The blue paladin had woken up a couple of days with what Shiro had said was merely a small cold. His nose had been tinged red, and he couldn’t go five seconds without sneezing, something Coran and Allura knew nothing about. The brunet had been ushered to bed, and the others had been taking turns checking on him.

Coran had volunteered to check on Lance a few moments ago at breakfast. He’s finding himself eager for the blue paladin’s recovery. Things have been far too quiet without Lance’s persistent chattering filling every crevice of the castle. Everything just seems so lonely, and while he knows Lance is doing his best to recover, Coran is practically on edge with anticipation for the moment when Lance is able to hop out of bed without expelling sharp air from his nose.

“Snozzing?” Coran mumbles as he approaches Lance’s door. “No, was it snuzzing?” He shakes his head and pushes open the door, muttering under his breath as he walks into the room. His gaze snaps to the lump hidden underneath blankets on the bed.

“Lance, my boy! How are we feeling today?” He’s met with silence, so he maneuvers around the used tissues littering the floor to get closer to the bed. He can just barely make out a tuft of damp, brown hair poking out from the multiple blankets piled over Lance’s trembling frame.

“You cannot possibly be chilly,” Coran mutters as he begins stripping blankets back. He’s pulling back his third one when Lance’s face comes into view, and he lets the thick fabric slip from his fingers as he takes in the blue paladin’s poorly features.

Lance is pale, frighteningly so. His normally tanned skin is washed out, giving an almost translucent appearance. If Coran didn’t know any better, he’d say Lance is sporting a case of the “Visies,” an Altean virus that causes a person to become see through.

But, the crimson patches coloring high on Lance’s cheeks negate that possibility. Coran tilts his head, forehead creased in concentration, and pats his hand lightly against Lance’s cheek, only to jerk his hand away moments later at the alarming heat.

“Humans cannot possibly run this hot,” Coran says to himself, but his tone is loud enough to pull Lance from his fitful slumber, and the brunet blinks tired, bloodshot eyes at Coran.

“Ah, Lance,” Coran starts, voice chipper. “How are you feeling? Your skin is quite hot; it feels as if you pressed your cheek to a stove burner.”

He watches Lance’s teeth clack loudly together as strong shivers course across his frame, and he narrows his eyes in question.

“Yet you shiver as if you are chilled through. Should I go get someone? Shiro perhaps?”

Before Lance has a chance to answer, his entire body stiffens just as his eyes roll back into his head.

Coran goes tense as he takes in the white backsides of Lance’s eyes that are laced with red. “Lance?” He asks, voice surprisingly soft and holding a low vibrato, a clear sign of fear.

He goes to shake the brunet, placing one hand atop Lance’s shoulder, but Lance begins convulsing violently under his palm, and he pulls his hand back with a sharp gasp.

It’s been a long time since Coran truly felt the long fingers of panic squeezing at his lungs, causing his heart to thump rapidly against his chest as if trying to shoot out of his throat. He has no idea what’s happening, nor does he have a single clue how to help.

Lance is shuddering helplessly, muscles contracting violently as if some invisible force has hold of him, and Coran can only think of one thing to do.

“Echo” is a difficult, rather tasking ability that Alteans can learn after years upon years of practice, but it comes in handy. Coran cannot physically move his feet from their planted position to get help, so he closes his eyes, clears his racing mind, sucks in a sharp breath and whispers “paladins!”

A moment later, he can hear the shrieking shout of his voice bouncing up and down the hallways, and he stumbles, panting from exertion just as Allura comes racing into the room with the other paladins hot on her heels.

“Coran! It’s been so long since you’ve used Echo! What ever is the matter?” Allura questions, placing steady hands to Coran’s back. Her brows furrow when she takes sight of Lance. “What’s he doing? Why is his body seizing like that?”

It’s Hunk who pushes past the two to get to Lance first. His wide eyes study Lance’s shaking form, and he breathes out a very measured, very quiet “fuck.”

The others gather behind Hunk, peeking around the yellow paladin from all sides.

“Seizure,” Pidge mutters, voice trembling. “But he was fine…”

Hunk leans forward and ever-so gently brushes his knuckles against Lance’s cheek. He becomes physically nauseated at the heat, and he sharply pulls his hand back. “He’s on fire.”

“What the fuck?” Keith steps forward and places a rough palm to Lance’s forehead, angered face pinching up into concern. “Guys, this is bad.”

“We’ve got to cool him down,” Shiro announces, too afraid to feel the fever heat radiating from the seizing brunet. “Now,” he adds, and the paladins fall into a flurry of activity while Allura and Coran watch with bated breath.

Within minutes, the paladins have placed cool, damp cloths across Lance’s forehead and neck, and they positioned ice packs against his arms and legs after yanking all of the blankets off the brunet.

Another thirty seconds pass, and Lance’s seizing tampers off until he falls still.

For seconds, no one moves, no one breaths, no one even blinks. The room is silent save the faint, muffled crackling of the ice packs, but after roughly a minute, Lance cracks one eye open, and a large wave of relief washes across the room, with each paladin breathing out relieved sighs and relaxing their tensed shoulders.

Coran takes a shaky step forward. “Lance, my boy. Are you back with us?” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet due to the exhaustion gripping at every corner. He’s beginning to realize he’s getting rather old, and he’s not able to do as much as his younger bones could.

Lance glances around the room before shifting his gaze down to spot the various cloths and ice packs. “What?” He rasps out, blinking slowly.

Shiro takes a step forward and crouches down until he’s eye level with Lance. “You’re very sick.”

Lance shakes his head. No he’s not. He’s fine, right? “It’s just a cold,” he presses, voice thick with confusion.

Shiro hums with a sympathetic vibrato just as Hunk steps forward. “Not quite, buddy. You’re running a scary high fever.”

“Enough to warrant a seizure,” Keith adds, voice sharp, piercing, but everyone in the room catches the underlining hint of concern.

Lance rolls his head until he’s staring at the blank ceiling above him. Curse his body. He’s always been susceptible to fevers, but he had been silently hoping that that would go away with age. Guess he’s wrong. “Sorry,” he mutters as thoughts that scream “You’re nothing but a burden!” shout across his mind.

“What?” Shiro shakes his head and places a hand to Lance’s arm. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Lance.”

“Yeah,” Pidge agrees from her spot curled up against Allura’s free side. “It’s not like you asked to get this sick.” She’s not one to seek out comfort, but seeing Lance in that state left her shaken to the core.

Lance breathes out a deep sigh. “I know. I just… I’m sorry, okay. It seems like you guys keep having to take care of me.” His thoughts creep down to his lips. “I’m just a burden. You guys should just leave.”

Keith pushes off the wall he’s been leaning on. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” He storms forward and roughly climbs onto Lance’s bed until his back is against the wall beside the brunet’s legs. He draws his knees to his chest and drops his chin atop one bent knee before shooting a narrow-eyed gaze toward Lance. “Stop the pity party, Lance. We are all going to stay right here to make sure you don’t die on us.”

Everyone nods, even Coran, who looks as if he could drop into a deep slumber at any moment. Lance opens his mouth to protest, but before he can’t get a word out, Keith holds up a tired hand.

“Don’t. You can’t kick the bucket, Lance. Who else is going to he our loud-mouthed sharp shooter?”

Shiro hums in agreement. “I don’t know a single person who can do what you do, Lance. We need you.”

Need, Lance thinks. His eyes well with tears, but a comfortable heat spreads across his chest, and his heart welcomes it by offering quick, excited thumps that ring in his ears. All he ever wants in life is to be needed, wanted, accepted.

“Okay,” he breathes out, and a smile creeps across his lips as the others take various positions across his room while lightly chatting.

He blissfully nods off to the welcoming warmth of the room.


	53. Stomach Troubles Lance ft. Caretaker Keith

“I’m dying,” Lance moans, draping one arm across his eyes while the other rests tightly around his stomach.

He had woken up that morning to a twisting stomach that left him stumbling into the bathroom of his small apartment, but after twenty uneventful minutes of kneeling in front of the toilet, he slipped shoes on, not caring that the two didn’t match, and started toward Keith’s apartment on the floor above his.

“No, you aren’t,” Keith says with a low sigh from his spot where he’s straddling a chair beside his bed, elbows propped along the back of the chair. “You probably just ate too much like usual.”

Groaning, Lance lifts his arm from his eyes and curls onto his side until he’s facing Keith while blindly grabbing for one of Keith’s many pillows and pressing it tightly against his knotting stomach.

“I haven’t eaten,” he admits, not missing the slight surprise that washes over Keith’s face. “I haven’t had an appetite.” And, he thinks, it’s true. The most he could stomach over the last two days was a small pack of crackers that left him feeling uncomfortably full.

Keith frowns at this, and he gets to his feet and walks toward the bed, leaning over to smooth a cool palm over Lance’s forehead. There’s a slight hint of heat but not enough to be concerning.

“You’re a little warm,” Keith informs, crouching down until he’s eye level with with brunet. “How do you really feel?”

“Like I’m dying,” Lance says, stressing each word to drive home his point. He curls tighter in on himself just as Keith stands.

“Just sleep then,” Keith mutters, crossing his arms as he stares down at the brunet. He’s not exactly sure why Lance is even here, but he didn’t have the heart to turn the brunet away when he came weakly knocking on his apartment door minutes earlier.

Lance squeezes his eyes shut, wishing that blocking out pain could be as easy as blocking out sight as he waits for sleep to whisk him away.

*****

When Lance wakes again, he’s not sure if five minutes passed or five hours; actually, he’s not sure of anything except the nausea running rampant throughout his body. He sits up slowly, but it’s still fast enough to further irritate his stomach. He freezes, hoping the nausea will pass, but seconds later, his stomach is lurching, and he’s stumbling out of Keith’s bed and into the bathroom. His knees clash against icy cold tiles, but he pays no mind as he hunches over the toilet and begins heaving.

His muscles tense and convulse against each wave of nausea. Seconds blur into minutes as he heaves, over and over and over with no break, no sparing moment of relief so he can catch his breath. His stomach just continues to revolt against him, and it _hurts_. Cramps flare hot across his stomach and settle deep within, pushing whatever contents are in his stomach up and out.

His eyes are burning with tears, and he lets out a small whimper that springs into a loud sob that’s abruptly cut off by bile shooting up his throat.

“Bout time you threw up,” Keith mutters suddenly from the doorway, and while Lance can hear him, he can’t respond. His stomach won’t allow it. The nausea is washing over him, and he feels as if he’s trapped in the ocean with wave after wave rushing over him and pushing him under. He can’t break surface, can’t breathe. His lungs are burning, and hot tears are slipping rapidly down his cheeks.

Keith frowns at the lack of biting response from Lance and closes the distance between the two. His face scrunches up in disgust at the smell, but he pushes past it and crouches down beside Lance, placing a hesitant hand to Lance’s trembling back.

Lance jumps at the touch and whips his face to the right with just enough time breathe out Keith’s name, voice desperate, before he’s forced to turn back and heave into the toilet bowl.

Keith blinks in surprise, mind briefly shutting down at the sight of Lance’s tear-streaked face, but time catches up to him just as worry takes center hold within his chest.

“Lance, buddy. It’s going to be okay,” he tries, sliding his hand from Lance’s back to the brunet’s neck. An alarming heat coats his palm, and Keith gets to his feet, working almost on autopilot as he wets a hand towel with cold water and drapes it across the back of Lance’s neck.

For minutes and minutes on end, Lance heaves into the toilet. He’s mid-thought that he may actually be dying when his stomach suddenly settles after a particularly violent bout of retching. Seconds later, he’s falling before he even has a moment to process what’s happening, but instead of hitting the floor, he collapses against Keith’s warm chest.

He’s shaking hard, and he’s crying, sobbing even. He’s so tired and cold, and he just wants everything to stop. He presses his face to Keith’s neck just as Keith wraps strong arms around his trembling frame.

Keith fights back a shudder at Lance’s tears sliding down his neck. The heat radiating off Lance is very concerning, but he doesn’t want to risk moving the brunet right now.

“It’s okay, Lance,” he mutters, trying his hardest to make his voice come off as soothing.

“It’s not,” Lance cries. “I’m dying.” Because, he genuinely feels, in this moment, that he’s not going to make it, that death is mere inches from him.

But, Keith knows a stomach bug when he sees one, and he knows that’s what Lance is struggling through. Nevertheless, he knows that this is a particularly bad one, and he can only imagine how poorly Lance is feeling.

“You aren’t going to die,” he tells Lance, voice soft yet firm. “I’m not going to let you, okay? I’m going to take care of you.”

Keith’s words take a comfortable spot within Lance’s mind, and he melts into Keith’s arms, putting his entire trust into Keith’s hands.


	54. Klance Marriage Proposal ft. Secret Sick Lance

Lance knows; at least, he thinks he knows. Keith’s been acting weird for weeks now: shady, dodgy, and just generally un-Keith like. And, it helps that Lance maybe found a receipt for a very pricey ring hidden in Keith’s coat pocket a few days ago.

He wants to be excited when he wakes on the day that he’s sure Keith has it planned, but he’s struggling. His head hurts, bad. The pain is borderline numbing; he almost feels as if his head is floating, bobbing around in the ocean while water rushes into his ears and floods his vision.

But, he can’t get away with just a headache can he? No. While his head feels as if it may fly off his body, his limbs feel like massive weights constantly trying to pull his body to the ground, and they ache fiercely. Combine those with full body chills that keep running rampant across his slender frame and the coughing and sneezing he’s struggling as it is to hide from Keith, and Lance can easily say he’s fighting a very shitty bout of the flu.

But, that doesn’t matter because Keith has a big day planned, and he will be damned if he fucks up what could be the single best moment of his life.

*****

From 9 in the morning until 5 in the evening, Lance has been running around town with Keith. They went to the movies, they window shopped, and they ate lunch at Lance’s favorite restaurant, even though he didn’t have an appetite and had to fake it.

Now, the two are strolling hand in hand through a garden just as the sun behind them dips below the horizon. Small lights are wrapped around the trees framing their walkway, and really, Lance thinks, the setting is calm yet beautiful, but he can’t find the energy to enjoy it. His entire focus is centered on putting one foot in front of the other. He’s having to mentally yell at himself to stay awake, and every few minutes, he’s forced to blink away the darkness that threatens to take hold.

Really, he’s quite impressed he’s made it this far. Even with his occasional coughing and sneezing, Keith has yet to pick up on his illness, and Lance isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not.

But whatever, he thinks. He doesn’t care. All he cares about right now is Keith suddenly ushering him toward a bench placed in front of a large fountain. The second he sits, he breathes out a low sigh of relief that catches in his throat when Keith suddenly drops down to one knee in front of him.

Shit, he thinks. It’s really fucking happening.

“Lance.”

Lance watches with wide eyes as Keith slides a small blue box out of his coat pocket. The ring!

“I hated you when I first met you…”

Lance chokes out a laugh in between tears. That, he thinks, is a fucking understatement.

“But you are so fucking persistent. You just kept appearing in my life, over and over until I couldn’t get your eyes from my mind or your laugh from my ears.”

Lance’s heart is swelling within his chest, and if Keith’s outer appearance is anything to go by, he’d say the latter feels the same.

“I would sometimes try to picture myself without you by my side, and it made me physically sick. That’s when I realized that I needed to do this.”

Lance blinks through tears when Keith pops the box lid up, revealing a glistening ring.

“I need you in my life, Lance. Will you marry me?”

Even though he was expecting it, Lance still let’s out a small sob as he nods and absently slides one glove off before holding his hand out.

Keith’s fingers are warm against his cold skin, and the ring slides onto his ring finger with ease. It’s stunning, but not as stunning as the man in front of him.

Lance’s eyes flutter closed when Keith leans forward to kiss him. Their lips meet, and Lance’s entire body goes warm from the gentle touch that serves as a comforting reminder of everything he’s ever wanted and everything he now has.

When they break the kiss, neither wants to lose the heat of the moment, so Keith drops his forehead against Lance’s, only to suddenly jerk away with a sharp frown moments later.

Lance’s brows furrow. “Keith, what-”

“You’ve got a fever.”

Shit. Fuck. Shit. “What?” Lance tries, voice tipping upward to mock an easy tone. “Because you just proposed to me.” He tries, but Keith only shakes his head and takes a step back, staring him down with narrow eyes.

“No. You’re so pale, and you look exhausted. You’re sick.”

Lance can’t pin Keith’s emotions. The latter’s tone is borderline accusing, but his face is surprised yet pinched with worry.

“I’m sorry,” Lance admits, unsure of what else to say while he mentally kicks himself for ruining the moment with his poor immune system.

He watches as Keith only shakes his head, and next thing he knows, he’s being gently pulled up from the bench then guided through the rest of the garden with a steady arm around his waist.

Everything is moving too fast, yet the silence between the two lingers, leaving Lance on edge. He suddenly grinds his feet to a halt, and clears his throat.

“Keith. I’m sorry,” he starts, voice shaking hard. “I didn’t… I wanted-” Whatever words to follow are cut off by Keith pressing a feather light kiss to his burning forehead.

“It’s okay. Just… I want to get you home. Your fever is worrying, and I hate seeing you sick.”

Lance nods, eyes brimming with tears as the two start walking once more. He drops his pounding, fuzzy head against Keith’s shoulder, illness catching up to him like a tidal wave.

“I love you,” he mutters.

“Love you too, idiot.”


	55. Shiro with a Sinus Infection

“Shiro?”

Shiro looks up from his untouched food at the sound of Keith’s soft yet questioning tone. “Yeah?”

“Are you… okay?” Keith asks slowly, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Shiro frowns at this, and he tilts his head slightly, prompting the red paladin to elaborate.

“You look,” Keith starts, tapping his index finger to his chin, “off.”

Shiro’s initial reaction is to laugh at this and mock offense, but a tickle in his nose has his face collapsing until he’s forced to turn away, pressing his face into the crook of his arm as a brief sneezing fit takes hold.

“I think what Keith is trying to say is that you look sick,” Hunk adds helpfully, having watched the brief interaction between the two paladins.

Sniffling, Shiro rubs absently at his nose as he turns his face away from his arm to glance over the now silent table.

“What was that peculiar noise?”

All eyes shift to Allura, and Pidge jumps into a full blown explanation on sneezing and how it’s a common symptom for being sick, but she’s unable to continue after Allura gasps at the word “sick.”

“You are unwell, Shiro?” Allura asks, voice laced with the familiar tone of worry she often holds when regarding the paladins.

Shiro wants to tell her that he’s fine, but he finds himself pitching forward as another, harsher sneezing fit wracks his broad frame.

“More?” Coran asks, leaning toward Lance as the two watch Shiro’s body tremble with each, forceful sneeze.

“Ah, yeah,” Lance says back quietly, wincing as he watches Shiro. “It will probably be happening a lot.”

“You should go rest,” Pidge says once Shiro is left sniffling and groaning, but he shakes his head as he rubs at his red-rimmed nose.

“I’m sure it’s just a small cold. I’ll be fine. I’ve got too much to do.” He keeps his voice confident as he informs the others that he will not be resting. He’s worked through colds before; hell, he and Matt both worked through high fevers during the beginning of the Kerberos mission, so a small cold is nothing. Working through it will be annoying, sure, but not impossible.

The others don’t seem to be buying his very convincing argument, and next thing he knows, Keith is leaning toward him and pressing a cool, steady palm to his forehead while the others watch on with narrowed eyes.

For a moment, no one breathes, but then Keith drops his hand with a sigh. “He’s not feverish.”

Shiro smirks while the others let out inaudible groans, all knowing full and well that without a fever, there’s no stopping Shiro.

But, Allura seems on edge, and Shiro catches on to her tense shoulders paired with a stick-straight back and shoots her an easy smile.

“I’ll be just fine, Princess. Humans get hit with colds all the time. It will go away in a few days.”

*****

It didn’t.

On his ninth day with the pesky cold, Shiro wakes to a searing pressure pushing behind his eyes and extending up and across his forehead. The sudden pressure only seems to heighten the pounding headache he’s been sporting since he went to bed the night before, and he sits up with the notion that this cold somehow turned into something more, something worse.

He’s long since given up on breathing through his nose, so when he goes to audibly sigh with an open mouth, his breath catches against his throat and leaves him hunching over and coughing harshly into his fist.

Each grating cough seems to add to the pressure blooming behind his eyes, making his head feel almost light-weight, which is a stark contrast to his heavy limbs.

It doesn’t take him long to catch onto the idea that he needs proper medicinal assistance now, so he swings his heavy legs over the bed and gets to his feet, only to fall back down onto the edge of the bed as the floor jerks beneath him.

When he dares to open his eyes, he finds his vision swimming, making it look as if his surroundings are swaying against a current of water. He’s not exactly sure how he’s going to walk, but he’s going to damn well try.

He struggles to his feet once more, sucking in quick measured breaths that leave him coughing weakly as he stumbles toward the door.

The hallway outside of his room looks impossibly long, and the bright lights appear blinding to his tired eyes. But, he’s got to get to help.

He braces one hand against the wall and keeps the other cupped over his mouth as he starts down the hall, coughing harshly as the slow movement burns his lungs.

He makes it up until he can see the dining room door before he knows he’s reached his limit, and he drops down to one knee, panting and coughing as darkness creeps at the edge of his vision.

He’s maybe got about a minute before he passes out, but the dining room door suddenly swings open, revealing Lance, who stops mid-sentence and freezes in the doorway.

“Lance,” Shiro croaks out, only to drop his other knee as well as another coughing fit wracks his frame.

“Shiro!”

Lance darts toward the black paladin, dropping to his knees beside his leader. He can hear the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor from the other room, and seconds later, the others come piling in and surround the two.

“Shiro, what’s wrong?” Lance asks, voice shaking with fear and worry.

Shiro shakes his head as he struggles to breathe around grating coughs, but when he finally catches his breath, he locks eyes with Lance. “My head,” he groans. “There’s so much pressure.” He clenches his teeth against the pain until his jaw is a tense, firm line jutting out against his skin.

Lance carefully brushes the backs of his fingers against Shiro’s cheek, and he swallows thickly at the heat.

“He’s burning up,” he tells the others, and Allura sucks in a sharp gasp.

“Is he melting? We have ice.”

Keith maneuvers around until he’s crouched on Shiro’s free side. “No, he’s not melting literally. A fever just means he’s really sick.”

“Sinus infection,” Hunk supplies, coming out of his deep thought. “You said you feel a lot of pressure, Shiro?”

Nodding, Shiro raises a free hand to hover over his eye. “Behind my eyes,” he mutters, coughing weakly.

“Definitely a sinus infection,” Pidge confirms with a frown.

“What do we do?” Lance questions quickly. While he knows that a sinus infection isn’t too serious, he’s not sure how to handle their leader like this.

“Get him back to bed,” Hunk supplies, motioning for Lance and Keith to help the black paladin up. “He needs rest, and when his fever is down, he can take a hot shower. The steam will help with the blockage.”

Lance and Keith both drape one of Shiro’s arms over their shoulders, and the three struggle to their feet. Shiro pitches forward, face pinched in pain, but Lance and Keith brace themselves against the falling motion and manage to keep Shiro from landing on his face.

“Okay,” Pidge says. “Let’s get to work.”

*****

Thirty minutes later finds Shiro laid up in bed under multiple blankets as chills course across his veins, but he breathes out a deep sigh when Lance, who is seated on the edge of the bed, drapes a damp cloth across his forehead.

His eyes flutter closed. “Thank you,” he tells Lance, but when the brunet fails to reply, Shiro cracks an eye open and takes in Lance’s slumped posture.

“What’s wrong?”

Lance shakes his head and glances toward the black paladin. “It’s nothing…”

“Lance,” Shiro presses, voice dangerously firm despite the congestion.

“It’s just… It’s been a while since something like this has happened,” Lance answers, motioning toward Shiro lying in bed. “I don’t know. I’m just scared. We’re in space. We don’t have the proper medicine for stuff like this. What if you don’t get better?”

Shiro is quick to catch into the slight tremor in Lance’s tone, and he calls out Lance’s name with a gentle voice. 

“I’ll get better,” he reassures, cracking a soft smile toward the brunet. “I promise.”

Lance breathes out a shaking sigh and nods.

“You better.”


	56. Klance ft. Sick, Sneezy Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is loosely based off that one Natsume episode where he gets sick after like climbing a mountain to see some flowers, lol

With their fingers laced together, Lance takes lead, pulling Keith along with him as they reach a clearing after their thirty minute upward hike through the woods. 

“It’s just up ahead!” Lance tells Keith, long legs taking large steps toward the clearing, a pure reflection of how eager he is to show Keith this hidden gem of a spot he accidentally discovered.

When the two push past the remaining trees and enter the grassy clearing, Lance drops Keith’s hand, and Keith is quick to wrap shaking arms around his frame as a cool gust of wind whips over the two.

“It’s freezing up here,” Keith comments, shivering lightly as he follows Lance toward an edge of the clearing. 

Lance looks over his shoulder toward Keith and nods. “It can get cold up here, but I promise it’s worth it!” He stops just before an edge and points down. “It’s right here!”

Keith walks forward, brushing against Lance’s warmth as he stops just short of the edge of the clearing and looks down. A sharp breeze whips his hair back, cold wind biting against his face, but he falls short of noticing anything other than the crystal clear lake framed with bright blue flowers on a ledge below them.

“How is there even a lake there?” Keith asks, voice mirroring that of someone in awe despite the realist part of his mind stepping forward.

While bobbing up and down on his feet beside Keith, Lance shrugs. “I don’t know, but isn’t it amazing?”

Keith nods, further words failing on silent lips as he truly takes in the gorgeous setting just below the two. It’s borderline hypnotizing, but he’s jerked back into reality when another biting breeze whips past him, leaving him shivering and stepping away from the edge.

Lance looks toward Keith with a sympathetic smile. “We should probably go before-”

Keith suddenly turns his face sharply and sneezes, once, twice, three times before looking back to Lance and sniffling lightly.

“You get sick…” Lance finishes, face falling slightly as he watches Keith rub absently at his nose.

“I’m okay,” Keith says, attempting to reassure Lance despite shivering hard as another sharp breeze leaves chills shooting up his spine.

“You would say that even on your death bed,” Lance says with a light laugh as he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it across Keith’s shoulders.

Keith tugs the jacket tighter across his frame with one hand while turning to sneeze sharply four times into his shoulder.

Frowning at this, Lance briefly steps forward and brushes his knuckles lightly against Keith’s cheek, causing the latter to shoot him a furrowed brow stare. He feels a slight heat against his skin, not concerning really but enough to have him taking one of Keith’s hands within his own and pulling the latter out of the clearing and back down to start the thirty minute hike back to civilization.

Their trek is silent for the first few minutes, but Keith suddenly breaks the silence by pulling his hand away from Lance’s as a sneezing fit leaves his shoulders shaking with each forceful sneeze.

When he’s able to catch his breath, he lets out a soft groan that ends with Lance draping a long arm across his shoulders. He leans into the warmth the brunet seems to radiate no matter the temperature and lets out a soft sigh.

“Leave it to you to get sick in the most cliche way,” Lance says lightly, rubbing one hand up and down Keith’s arm as the two begin walking again.

“I’m not sick,” Keith fires back weakly, argument practically invalid when he cranes his neck to sneeze away from Lance only moments later. “That’s your thing,” he adds, sniffling lightly while he attempts to ignore the dull throb blooming across his temples.

Laughing, Lance shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yet you like me,” Keith points out through a weak cough.

Lance doesn’t miss this, but he chooses not to worry over it just yet. “Yeah, I don’t even know why.”

“My breathtaking looks and charming personality,” Keith shoots back flatly, leaving Lance laughing loudly.

“Jokes, Keith? You must really be getting sick then.” Despite his lighthearted tone, Lance stops walking and takes a moment to slide a palm across Keith’s forehead, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to not visibly frown at the stronger, more evident heat indicating a clear fever now.

“I’m not,” Keith starts, voice cutting off by a series of sharp sneezes. “Sick,” he finishes weakly.

Lance only tugs Keith’s shivering frame closer to his side as the two continue walking. “Okay, Keith. You keep telling yourself that.”

Keith drops his head against Lance’s shoulder, muttering out a weak “shut up” while rubbing his hand against his red-rimmed nose.


	57. Ficlet: Matt and Shiro Working Through High Fevers

Matt can look past the throbbing headache. He can look past the sluggish feeling that has his body slumped over the desk he’s working on, but he can’t look past the fluctuating body temperature. It’s distracting and making it incredibly difficult to work. He’s just shifted from a hot flash to a deep set of chills that have his entire body trembling and teeth chattering loudly.

Without looking back, he clears his throat to get Shiro’s attention. “Can you get my coat?” He asks as he struggles to map out coordinates with a shaking hand.

Frowning, Shiro spins slowly in his chair so to not further irritate his pounding head that’s leaving everything swirling and swimming around him. He gets to his feet and stumbles toward Matt, bracing one hand against Matt’s desk as he looks down at the shivering boy with furrowed brows.

“You’re cold? You really need to go rest, Matt.” With his free hand, he brushes his knuckles against Matt’s cheek, frown deepening at the alarming heat. “You’re boiling,” he adds to drive his point home.

Matt drops his pencil, and he shoots a sharp gaze toward Shiro. “I’ll go rest when you do.” He spits out despite his wavering voice.

“I don’t need to rest,” Shiro says back, voice sliding upward slightly to mirror that of confusion.

“Then let go of the desk.”

“What?”

Matt leans back in his chair and motions weakly toward Shiro’s stance. “Let go of the desk, and stand up straight. Show me that you can.”

A light huff slips past Shiro’s lips as he lets go of the desk. It takes only a second until he’s falling backward as a strong wave of dizziness shoves at his front. He would have fallen on his ass if it weren’t for Matt’s undeniably fast reflexes.

Matt is out of his chair at an alarming speed, and he wraps slender fingers around Shiro’s arms and digs his heels into the floor to keep the two upright.

Shiro steadies himself, only to stumble back slightly from surprise when Matt suddenly leans heavily against his chest while panting harshly with eyes that are screwed tightly shut.

Shiro can feel the heat radiating from Matt through his thin shirt, and he drapes one hesitant arm around Matt’s shoulders while his other hand finds the desk once more for support.

“Matt?” He asks, voice low and worried. “Are you alright?”

Matt nods, shivering harder as Shiro’s voice vibrates against his head and shoots down his spine. He pulls away after a few moments and flops back down into his chair, drawing his knees up and hugging his legs to his chest to form an attempted cocoon of warmth.

“I just stood up too fast,” he admits, dropping his burning forehead atop his knees. He hears Shiro stagger away, and his mind tells him to be worried, but before he has a chance to look up, he feels a warm coat being draped across his shoulders.

“Mmm, thank you,” he mutters, rolling his head until his cheek is pressed against his knees so he can see Shiro.

Shiro leans against the side of the desk, using it as a makeshift chair. He crosses his arms and blinks against his fading vision. “We need rest,” he says weakly.

“We have work,” Matt says back, voice hardly above a whisper.

Shiro glances toward Matt’s desk before sparing a reluctant look toward the mountains of books and papers littering his. “I know,” he says tiredly. “Just, if you need to take a break to rest, let me know. You really don’t look well.”

Matt laughs through a weak cough before dropping his feet to the floor and turning back toward his desk, toward his work. “Likewise. Try not to pass out on your way back to your desk.”

Shiro pushes off the desk and starts back toward his. The ground beneath his feet is tilting with each trembling step, and by the time he reaches his chair, he’s panting harshly, chest heaving up and down drastically as sweat lines his temples. It takes a solid two minutes for lights and visuals to come back to his vision, and when it does, he reaches for his next book with a sigh.

This details of the Kerberos Mission aren’t going to write themselves after all.


	58. Keith Hurt, Pods Down, Caretaker Lance

Keith’s arms are pumping at his side as he sprints up and down the length of the training room. He finds it important to run daily to maintain his stamina because he never knows when he’s going to be put in a position where he’s left to flee without Red’s assistance.

Plus, he likes running. It feels like a release, like he’s loosening tight limbs after a fitful night of sleep. Sleep has never come easy for him, and it seems to only be getting worse while in space. His circadian rhythm is gone, and he can’t find it not matter how hard he tries. Time just moves differently in space, but he’s okay. He’s learning to adapt with little sleep; it’s not like it’s a new concept to him.

When he goes to cut a sharp turn to start back down the length of the room, he stumbles and falls to his knee. Nothing new, he’s fallen before. Only, this time it’s different. He hears a faint cracking sound that’s followed by a sharp, piercing pain that shoots all across his knee.

Gasping, he rolls onto his side, clutching his throbbing knee with both hands as his vision wavers in and out of focus. His heart is thumping loudly in his ears, making the string of curses slipping from his tongue sound muffled and distant.

In a brief bout of panic, Coran’s words from a few days ago slip across his mind.

_“Everyone try not to get hurt, okay? The pods are due for a heavy maintenance check due to faulty codes running back to our systems.”_

“Fuck,” he spits out through clenched teeth. He can feel sweat pooling at his temples, and he desperately blinks away his swimming vision.

He is so unbelievably fucked. He has no idea what to do, but he needs help. He can’t tell the others; he doesn’t want to disappoint them or worry them. He just needs to lay low for a few days until the pods are up and running, and then he will sneak in for a few hours and be good as new.

Carefully, he moves to straighten out his leg, and while he manages, the pain once again leaves him breathless, and his vision goes white for a moment. So, perhaps laying low is going to he difficult. Maybe he needs help, and there’s only one person he can think of to go to.

*****

Keith weakly knocks his knuckles against Lance’s bedroom door. The walk from the training deck to Lance’s room was easily the hardest task he’s ever been faced with. Putting pressure on his injured knee is short of impossible, so he spent the walk leaning heavily against the wall as he limped toward the blue paladin’s room.

When Lance doesn’t answer, he curls his hand into a fist and bangs it against the door. He knows Lance probably has headphones on, but if the brunet doesn’t answer this damn door in the next two-

When the door suddenly slides open, Keith loses his support, and he’s left falling forward, straight into Lance’s now open arms.

“Woah, Keith! Not the entrance I was expecting, but hello,” Lance says, drawing out the last word with a teasing smile. He opens his mouth to tease more, but his easy smile instantly drops into a frown at the muffled gasp of pain Keith breathes into his chest.

“Keith? You okay, buddy?”

“No,” Keith spits out. He feels hot all over, but his knee is on fire, and his vision is moving in and out again. He’s going to pass out soon; he can feel it. “I need to sit,” he urges, and Lance pulls him into the room and to the bed.

Lance eases Keith onto the edge of the bed, and Keith hisses out in pain when his knee is jostled roughly.

“What’s wrong?” Lance questions sharply, all silliness pushed to the far back of his mind. He crouches down until he’s eye level with Keith, eyes scanning over Keith’s face for any sign of an answer from Keith’s pale face. 

“My knee,” Keith mutters as he takes in measured breaths to keep himself from throwing up all over Lance as nausea washes over his body in strong, inconsistent waves.

Lance rocks back on his feet as he turns his gaze toward Keith’s legs, and he doesn’t even need to ask which knee. Even with pants on, Keith’s right knee is significantly larger than his left, and when Lance ghosts a hand over it, he can feel an uncomfortable heat.

“What did you do?” Lance asks, worry laced within his firm tone.

“I was running and I fell on it,” Keith answers, voice wavering as pain and nausea battle within his body.

“Keith, the pods-”

“I know,” Keith groans. “You have to help me hide this.”

Surprise colors Lance’s face. “Hide it? Why?”

“I just don’t want anyone to know.” Keith’s voice is weak and tired, mirroring how he’s feeling from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. “Will you help?”

“Of course,” Lance answers quickly. “I’ll do whatever you need so long as you stay in this bed.”

“Lance-”

“No,” Lance interrupts as he gets to his feet. “You do not need to be walking on that knee at all, Keith. I’ll help you, but you aren’t getting up until the pods are fixed.”

Defeat tastes sour on Keith’s tongue, but pain and fatigue win in the end, and he nods, allowing Lance to help him fully onto the bed. Within seconds, Lance has his injured knee elevated, and he’s got the blankets tucked around his body.

“Rest. I’ll be back.”

Keith doesn’t need to be told twice. His eyes flutter closed, and he’s out in seconds.

*****

When Keith wakes up, his knee feels slightly numb, and it’s honestly the best feeling in the world. He sits up to look, and a damp cloth slides off his forehead and lands in his lap.

“You’re awake.”

“I’m not sick,” Keith says, tone tipping up to reflect his confusion as he picks up the damp cloth. 

“You were warm,” Lance mutters, leaning forward in his chair beside the bed to press the back of his palm to Keith’s forehead. “Still are. You must really be in a lot of pain.”

Keith nods toward the ice pack draped across his knee. “That’s helping a lot,” he admits with a yawn.

“You should get more rest.”

“How long was I out?”

Lance glances at his bedside clocks. “A couple of hours.”

“Mmm,” Keith nods before carefully easing himself back onto the pillow. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s being sucked back into sleep.

*****

The second time Keith pries his eyes open, Lance’s room is almost dark, and the brunet is slumped over the bed asleep. Keith can make out a faint plate of food on Lance’s desk. Dinner, he assumes. But, the thought of food leaves his stomach twisting. That’s so not going to happen right now.

He leans forward to prod lightly at his knee, but his finger freezes just inches before it by a gruff voice piercing through the silence.

“Don’t.”

Keith looks toward the brunet, who’s sitting up with a low yawn. “You’re awake?”

“You’re awake,” Lance parrots back flatly. “Why do you keep waking up? Is your knee keeping you up?” He asks, rubbing one hand over his sore neck.

Keith looks down, feeling suddenly embarrassed under Lance’s tired gaze. “No,” he admits, fiddling with a loose strand on Lance’s blanket. “I have trouble sleeping.”

“For how long?”

Keith thinks for a moment. “Always? But, it’s gotten worse since we got here.”

Lance frowns at this. He wracks his mind for an idea, and next thing he knows, he’s up and navigating through the dim lighting until he finds his music player and Pidge’s headphones.

“Maybe this will help?” Lance asks as he walks back over to the bed. “It helps me.”

Keith shrugs. It can’t hurt to try. He takes the headphones and slides them over his head, and he leaves Lance in charge of choosing the song. To his surprise, a soft, acoustic guitar rift starts playing through the headphones, and it’s followed by a deep, raspy voice singing in Spanish.

He leans back against the pillow, but before he drifts off, he looks at Lance. “Come here.”

“What?” Lance asks, voice quick and loud.

“I said come here. We can share the bed.”

“I don’t-”

“Lance, if you don’t get in this bed, you are going to end up in a pod as well for your back after sleeping hunched over.”

Lance considers it, but he shakes his head. “Your knee.”

“What about it?”

Sighing, Lance motions to it. “I don’t want to accidentally hit it or anything.”

“You won’t,” Keith says, and he believes it. Lance has been very cautious thus far. “Just come on.”

“Keith-”

“Lance. Get in the fucking bed.”

Lance swallows thickly before he pushes the chair back and very carefully crawls into the bed. He’s extra cautious when positioning his legs, and the end result is him being half draped across Keith’s chest, head pressed against Keith’s neck and legs half-tangled with Keith’s left one.

“Is this okay?” He questions softy, heart racing within his chest.

“Yes.” Keith answers. Despite how uncomfortable it should feel, Keith hasn’t felt this comfortable in a long time. The combination of Lance’s warmth and the soft music are pulling him to sleep almost instantly.

*****

“Lance.”

Lance blinks awake and rolls his head to the side to see Shiro standing beside the bed with a soft smile.

“Mmm, wha?”

“The pods are up and running. Can you handle getting Keith there by yourself?”

Lance spares a glance toward Keith, and warmth spreads across his chest when he finds the latter in a deep, easy sleep.

“I’ve got it,” he tells Shiro just as he looks back to the older paladin. “Make sure no one is around. Keith still thinks no one knows.”

“Got it,” Shiro tells him before quietly exiting the room.

Lance looks back to Keith. He doesn’t want to wake him up, but he had specified for a rush on the pods, and he knows the others were up late working on them. He doesn’t want their work to go to waste.

He slides off the bed then leans forward to gently shake Keith awake. “Keith, buddy. Wake up.”

Keith pries tired eyes open, and he yawns lowly as he waits for his vision to focus. “What’s up?”

“I overheard Coran and Allura say the pods are up and running. Ready to sneak in one while the others are at breakfast?” Lance lies easily, and Keith nods, pushing up on his elbows with a light wince at the slight jostle of his knee.

“You’ll help me?” He asks with another yawn.

“Of course.”


	59. Superhero AU ft. Sick Keith but Even More Sick Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very excited to share this one with you guys!

Pair Keith’s fire abilities with Lance’s frightening speed and accuracy, and the two are easily a strong combination when it comes to fighting crime. They work on the same side, representing the Hero Paladins, but instead of benefiting humanity with their powerful combined abilities, they compete. A lot.

The two often compete to see who can save the most lives. It becomes almost a game to them, only turning serious if a situation is dire enough to call in the whole team. They take this competition of sorts very seriously, so when Keith wakes on game day feeling slightly off with a runny nose and a dull throb pulsing against his temples, he ignores it.

He will not be bested by Lance after all.

*****

“We meet back here in twenty minutes for the first count,” Keith says, eyes already scanning around for any sign of trouble from his crouched position on the roof ledge of a tall building.

He watches Lance nod, the brunet opting to stay silent as he glances down toward the streets with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Lance isn’t normally one to keep silent on game day, but perhaps, Keith thinks, it’s a new strategy. “Ready?” He asks, running one hand at his nose briefly before tensing his body in preparation for the jump.

“Ready,” Lance replies softly, and Keith gives a three count before yelling a loud “go!”

To no surprise, Lance turns a sharp right and leaps off the side of the building, landing atop the next building over before moving on to the next with a speed that seems to be lagging slightly to Keith’s narrowed eyes.

Keith watches, brows knit together in confusion, but then he shakes his head and dives off the building, shooting fire from his fists to pick up speed. The ground below him rapidly approaches, and when it’s only a few feet from his face, he curls his body around until his feet are landing hard on the cold pavement.

He stumbles slightly, impact causing a jolt in his legs, but he quickly regains his footing and darts toward a sudden screeching sound. Car accident, he thinks. There are always car accidents in the city.

*****

When Keith opens the door to the roof after having opted to take the elevator to spare his aching limbs, he finds Lance seated on the ledge, knees drawn up against his chest.

“What’s your count?” He asks as a greeting, approaching the open ledge spot beside Lance and straddling it so that he can face the brunet.

“Six,” Lance mutters, dropping his chin atop his knees but shifting his glance toward Keith, and Keith laughs, a bellowing laugh that echoes across the rooftop.

“Six!? I’m at seventeen!” Keith shakes his head, a few stray laughs slipping past his lips. He braces his hands on the ledge and leans forward until his face is fairly close to Lance’s. “Why only six, Lance?” He asks, voice sliding up in a taunting manner.

Before Lance can vocally reply, he turns his face away to stifle a cough, but Keith doesn’t miss the brunet’s shoulders jerking up and tensing for a moment before dropping back into a deep slump that’s unusual for Lance’s typical posture.

“Wait,” Keith says, prompting Lance to crane his neck toward him. “What’s wrong?” He asks, narrow eyes studying the deep red flush spread across Lance’s cheeks, serving as the only color on the brunet’s otherwise pale face.

“Are you sick?” Keith questions, conclusion hot on his mind. “Can heroes even get sick?” He reaches a hand to Lance’s forehead, palm brushing against the brunet’s forehead right before Lance jerks away with a speed that may seem impressive to the blind eyes but, to Keith, is worryingly slow.

Keith had enough time to feel the stifling heat of an alarming fever running rampant in the brunet’s slender frame. “You’re burning up,” he hisses, voice accusing with a blaring hint of concern. He gets back onto the roof and tugs at Lance’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the base.”

He pulls harder at Lance’s arm until the brunet is falling to the gravel-covered rooftop, and Keith manages to drop to his knees with just enough time to catch him. 

Lance groans against his chest. “Why are you so hot?” He asks, voice weak, and Keith let’s out a sharp laugh.

“Heat is kind of my thing, Lance. Jesus, you really must be sick,” Keith says, attempting to keep his voice light despite the worry is bleeding through. Before he can get the two up, Lance is spinning around in his arms until the two are facing one another. “Lance-”

His words catch in his throat when Lance slaps a palm to his forehead with a deep frown.

“You’re warm,” Lance tells Keith, and Keith nods in big motions.

“Because of my-”

“It’s not because of your fire abilities, Keith. This is different. You’re feverish.”

Keith shakes his head and ignores his aching muscles as he hops to his feet, pulling Lance up with him. “I’m not feverish,” Keith tells Lance as he drags the brunet toward the door.

“You must be mistaken,” he adds, keeping his tired eyes in front of him. “You’re the sick one!”

But, even as Keith says it, he can’t deny the piercing pain shooting across his forehead pairing with his aching muscles. But, he opts to put all his focus onto Lance’s alarmingly warm wrist gripped between his strong fingers as he drags the two back to base.

*****

“This is stupid,” Keith mutters out in between chattering teeth as fever chills defy his fire abilities and leave him chilled through. “We’re heroes!” He motions weakly toward Lance, who’s tossing and turning in a fitful sleep in the bed beside him. “How can we even get sick?”

Shiro hums sympathetically and turns from his spot at the medicine table to face Keith.

“We are heroes, but we are still human.”


	60. Pharmacist Lance and Sick Keith

Lance is just about to lock up the pharmacy when a young man comes stumbling toward the counter, and Lance can’t help but gasp, frozen fingers curled around the keys as he takes in the poor sight before him.

The man looks like he’s got one hand hovering over the knob of death’s door. Despite the red scarf wrapped around the man’s neck and the lower half of his face, Lance can still make out the deep crimson flush colored high on his cheeks that extends up and over the bridge of his nose. Underneath his eyes are dark, almost bruised, half-circles, and both the evident fever flush and clear lack of sleep serve as harsh contrasts to his frighteningly pale complexion.

Wide, blood-shot eyes lock onto Lance’s, and Lance can physically see the conflict wash over the man’s face as he briefly breaks their gaze to read the “Pharmacy Hours” sign off to the side.

The man tugs the scarf from his mouth with a shaking hand. “I-” he starts, voice cracking weakly. He clears his throat but winds up braced against the closest wall as a coughing fit claws up his throat, and Lance can’t help but wince.

Each cough sounds worse, deeper, than the last, and Lance can only watch on with wide, worried eyes as the man coughs until his entire face is glowing a bright red and sweat lines his temples.

A few lingering customers shoot questioning glances in their direction, but Lance only offers an absent wave of a hand, all focus pulling toward the ill man before him, who appears to finally be over the worst of the fit. 

Lance leans forward, dropping his elbows against the counter just as the sick man turns toward him.

“Are you okay?” Lance asks, concern bleeding from his tone.

In lieu of an answer, the man pulls a crumpled paper from his coat pocket and slides it onto the counter. “You don’t have to do this now,” he says, turning away briefly to sneeze into the crook of his arm. “I’ll just come back tomorrow-”

“I can do it now,” Lance interrupts as his eyes scan the crumpled paper. One basic prescription for Tamiflu for Keith Kogane.

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s fine!” Lance smiles and motions toward the bench behind Keith. “It might take a a little bit, so you should probably sit down.”

Keith nods and flops down onto the bench, drawing his legs up until his knees are pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around his legs and drops his chin atop one knee, coughing weakly and shivering as another round of chills shoot up and down his limbs.

For a few minutes, the two are silent as Lance types away at the computer, with the only sounds coming from the clicking of keys and Keith’s sneezing and cough, both of which are frequent and worrying.

“It will be about ten minutes to get this processed,” Lance finally tells Keith as he snatches a box of tissues from underneath the counter and exits the pharmacy area. He’s got a tissue in hand just as Keith buries his face into the crook of his elbow to sneeze sharply, shoulders tensing and trembling from the jolting force.

“Here,” Lance says softly, holding out the tissue when Keith looks back to him.

“Thanks,” Keith mutters weakly, taking the tissue and rubbing it at his nose just as Lance drops into a crouch in front of him and holds one hand out toward Keith’s face in a careful gesture. 

“May I?” He asks, and Keith only shrugs in response.

Lance gently brushes the back of his hand against Keith’s forehead, frowning deeply at the unnatural, concerning heat. “Did you get a read on that fever when you went to the clinic?”

“103.2,” Keith answers, shivering lightly under Lance’s touch. “Your hand is cold.”

Lance pulls his hand away, dropping it briefly onto Keith’s shoulder before moving it back to his side. “Sorry,” he says, yawning slightly as he stands.

“No, I’m sorry.”

The frown pulled at Lance’s lips deepens, and he tilts his head slightly in question. “Why?”

“You’re closed,” Keith answers flatly as a few weak coughs slip past his lips. “I’m keeping you, and you’re obviously tired.” He finishes before pressing the tissue back to his nose and sneezing sharply.

Lance’s face twists into a soft sympathy, and he shakes his head. “It’s okay. Besides, you definitely need the medicine now.”

“I tried to get to the doctor earlier, but work-”

“You went to work like this?” Lance asks, voice sharp and laced with surprise

Coughing harshly, Keith nods. “Had to,” he manages out in between coughs, and Lance drops onto the bench, rubbing one hand up and down Keith’s back as the latter quickly succumbs to a coughing fit.

Lance can feel the fever heat even through Keith’s coat, and he spares a glance toward a clock on the wall, breathing out a low sigh of relief when he realizes the ten minutes are up.

“I’m going to go get your medicine bagged,” he tells Keith, and Keith only offers a weak wave in response as deep, chesty coughs continue grating up his throat.

It takes Lance only a few minutes to get everything finalized. Afterwards, he powers off the computer and grabs the bagged medicine and his coat before exiting the pharmacy after locking everything up.

“Let me walk you out,” Lance tells Keith as he offers the medicine, and Keith takes the bag while he slowly gets to his feet with a nod.

The two walk across the store in silence, and when they reach the exit and the double doors slide open, Lance winces as a biting gust of winter wind whips at the two.

“Ah, I hate winter,” he mutters, slipping his arms into his coat sleeves. He rubs his hands up and down his arms and bounces on his feet as he slides a glance toward Keith, who is shivering hard.

“Where did you park?” Lance asks, eager to get Keith out of the biting wind.

“I walked.”

Lance freezes, brows knitting together almost instantly. He knows the clinic isn’t far from here, but Keith doesn’t need to be out in this weather at all. “Then I’ll drive you,” he tells Keith, but the latter shakes his head with a harsh cough.

“It’s fine-”

“No, Keith, it’s not.” Lance interrupts, but when Keith shoots him a sharp look, he mutters a quick apology before continuing. “I’ll call you Mr. Kogane if you want, and I promise I’m not an ax murderer, but you really don’t need to be walking in this wind, and…”

Keith watches the brunet prattle on about all of the health hazards that will stem from walking home, and he sighs, exhaustion curling cold fingers around his shivering frame.

“Keith is fine,” he interrupts, and Lance’s words clip off.

“What?”

“You can call me Keith. And, I’ll go with you.”

Lance smiles wide and nods quickly. “Okay, good.” He turns, pointing toward a blue truck parked in the employee section. “I’m right over there.”

Keith nods, and together, the two make the quick walk toward Lance’s truck.


	61. Klance Long Distance ft. Sick Lance

The trip’s been planned for months. The plane tickets have been purchased, bags have been packed, and all that’s left is for Lance to drive to the airport, with only one nine-hour flight separating him from a week long visit with Keith.

Seems simple enough. Until it’s not.

The day Lance is due to drive to the airport, he wakes to a splitting headache that leaves him curled on his side and desperately massaging his temples with clenched teeth.

This can’t be happening, he thinks. His breath comes out in ragged gasps as panic bubbles and boils over, spreading across his chest in heated waves that wash over his pounding heart.

Sure, he had been feeling slightly off for the last few days, but he’s been pegging that on a subtle lack of sleep. His excitement level has been at an all-time high as the days until he gets to see Keith dwindled down, making sleep almost short of impossible.

So, being sick had been the last option on his mind, simply because he can’t be.

He sits up, blinking back the deep haze coating his vision. When his blanket pools around his waist, leaving his bare arms exposed, he starts to shiver, limbs fighting a losing battle against a deep set of tremors that are misplaced in the summer season.

Hesitantly, he reaches one hand toward his cheek, and before he even touches skin to skin, he can feel the fever heat rolling off his face in loud waves.

Maybe, he thinks despite the obvious answer. Maybe he can still go. But when he swings his legs over his bed and stands, prepared to ignore his symptoms, he falls back down onto the mattress in a dizzy haze as a gasping sob slips past his lips. The audible sound of discomfort sparks a fire in his throat, and next thing he knows, he’s doubled over in a coughing fit that leaves tears springing in his eyes.

The sudden loud blare of Keith’s ringtone echoes over the sounds of his coughing, and Lance has to answer. With one hand clamped over his mouth as body shaking coughs rip up his throat, he leans over and snatches up his phone, swiping a trembling finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Ke-” Lance tries in between coughs, but further words are lost against a burning throat that’s succumbing to the chesty coughs growing from deep in his lungs.

_“Lance? Are you okay? What’s going on?”_

Lance shakes his head even though Keith can’t see. The concern bleeding from Keith’s tone has the tears in his welling eyes pouring over and down his face. “I can’t,” he gasps out, sobs and coughs wracking his slender frame.

_“Wait, hang on. I’m going to FaceTime you, okay?“_

“Kay,” Lance manages out, pulling his phone away when he hears the familiar chime indicating a dropped call.

It takes only seconds until a different tone starts emitting from his phone, and Lance accepts the FaceTime request before moving his phone up slightly just as Keith’s face appears across his screen. Despite the poor quality, Lance can make out the concern coloring Keith’s narrowed eyes.

_“Lance? Jesus, you look terrible.”_

A few weaker coughs slip between Lance’s lips, sound almost masked by the shaking sobs shooting up his throat. “Keith,” he rasps out, tears spilling freely from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can make it to the airport. I’m not sure if I can stand. Keith, I’m really sor-”

_“Lance, easy. It’s okay.”_

Lance rapidly shakes his head once more despite his pounding head. “No, it’s not!” The sudden shout grates against his throat, and he turns away to cough harshly into the crook of his arm, over and over until he’s finally able to suck in a decent amount of air without spitting up a lung. “We’ve had this planned, Keith! I need to see you!” He forgoes turning away, this time, and opts instead to cough into his cupped palm. 

_“Lance, stop. You need to breathe.”_

The sheer command in Keith’s tone has Lance nodding and pushing his focus toward his lungs, forcing in measured breaths until he’s able to breathe without coughing. 

_“Okay?”_

Lance nods weakly and sniffles lightly as he turns his attention back toward his boyfriend. “Keith,” he calls out, voice cracking as another round of tears sting at his eyes. 

_“You need to rest.”_

“But, the trip-” 

_“You cannot travel like this, Lance. We both know this.”_

“But, I miss you.” Lance whispers, and to anyone else, Keith’s expression would have appeared neutral. But, Lance didn’t miss the slight waver in his boyfriend’s dark eyes, nor did he miss the clench of Keith’s jaw, both clear signs that Lance’s words struck a strong chord with Keith. 

_“I miss you, too, but we can reschedule. Right now you just need to focus on resting.”_

Lance is quick to find that not even his signature pout is going to get Keith to let up on his hold that he needs rest, so he reluctantly nods, and the two say their goodbyes, with Keith promising to call in a few hours right after spitting out a check list of things for Lance to do: drink water, take medicine, get a read on the fever, and rest. 

When Lance closes out of FaceTime, he falls back against his pillow and clutches his phone to his chest, already missing Keith’s sharp, cold tone that always holds a strong hint of warmth when talking with Lance. And, Lance desperately reaches out to that warmth as he falls into a fitful sleep. 

*****

Lance wakes four hours later to shivering limbs that ache fiercely. He glances toward his phone, noting with a heavy heart that the only sign of communication is a text from Hunk asking if he’s okay. 

There’s not a single trace of Keith on this damn useless device, and Lance lets his phone slip through his fingers and clatter toward the floor before curling up onto his side under his blankets. 

He yearns for warmth, but he’s finding he may never get that from Keith again. He feels a cold pain that always lingered around him before he met Keith, and the only source of current warmth are the hot tears silently sliding down his flushed cheeks. 

*****

A loud pounding against his dorm door has Lance jerking up from sleep with a sharp gasp. His chest heaves up and down, and he coughs harshly over and over, as if his coughing is competing with the rapid knocking against his door. 

Despite his best hopes, the knocking doesn’t let up. In fact, it seems to pick up in strength and intensity, leaving Lance forced to swing his legs over his bed and get to his feet. 

For a moment, everything suddenly glows a blinding white that morphs into a searing pain within his head. He blinks through it until the bright light fades away into a dark, dirty dorm room. It’s only then that Lance braves the short walk toward the door, feeling as if he’s creeping across a rickety rope-bridge placed over a large canyon. 

He just makes it and wraps a trembling hand around the doorknob before turning it and pulling the door open slowly, for his body will not permit fast movements of any kind. 

When his door is wide open, Lance staggers back and almost trips up slightly on the small carpet he’s got placed on the middle of his dorm floor. With a shine of fear in his eyes, he presses a hand to his forehead, wondering just how high his fever could be to warrant hallucinations of Keith standing and panting before him while looking as if he’s just run a thousand miles to get here. 

“Lance…” 

The relief that dances off Keith’s breathy tone has Lance stumbling forward until he’s collapsing against Keith’s chest. He presses his ear over the general location of Keith’s heart and listens to the rapid thumping against his ear. 

“It’s really you?” He questions, afraid that when he pulls back, he’s going to be met with Hunk or his RA. 

“It’s me.” 

The deep voice rumbling against his ear leaves Lance pulling away with wide, welling eyes. “I don’t… How?” 

Instead of a verbal response, Keith only pulls Lance back to his chest, wrapping strong arms around the brunet’s shaking shoulders. He rubs steady hands up and down Lance’s back as a brief yet evident spike of worry shoots through his veins when he feels the heated face pressed against his neck. 

“I managed to get a same day flight thanks to Shiro. Hunk came and got me from the airport.” 

Lance can only nod as tears spill from his eyes. His entire body is trembling, but Keith’s warmth is doing well in chasing away his fever chills. “I missed you,” he whispers, arms tightening around Keith’s waist as if he has plans to never let the boy go. 

“I know, and I missed you more than words could ever express.” 


	62. Klance ft. Lance with Hypothermia

_“So, this is insane, but who’s to say that I’m not also insane?”_  

Keith smirks as he props his feet up and leans back against his computer chair. He watches with lazy eyes as Lance motions toward the icy river behind him. 

He won’t do it, Keith thinks, and he expresses this through a quick text to the brunet.   
  
It takes only seconds until Lance is fishing his phone out of his pocket, and Keith can’t help the light laugh that slips through his lips as he watches Lance’s face curl into a mask of annoyance as he reads the text.   
  
_“My boyfriend seems to think I’m bluffing. Well, let me prove you wrong, Keith!"_  
  
Keith crosses his arms and tilts his head as Lance begins shedding clothes on his laptop screen. He’s predictable, Keith thinks. Lance always asks for dares from his live stream viewers then chickens out half way through. It never fails.   
  
Most likely, Lance will strip to his boxers, toe the icy river water, then make some humorous comment about how he’s not in the mood to die today.   
  
When Lance is stripped down to his boxers, he turns his back to face the river, and Keith’s eyes zero in on the defined back muscles jutting out beautifully against golden tan skin. His gaze trickles down the waist band of Lance’s light blue boxers as a soft blush colors his cheeks, and then Lance jumps.

Keith’s feet slam down onto the floor, and he leans impossibly close to the laptop screen as if he can physically climb through to get to Lance. His eyes zero in on the faint rippling of water where Lance jumped, and his heart seems to jerk to a halt just as his breath catches in his throat while he watches with wide, trembling eyes for Lance to come back up. 

Finally, Lance breaks the surface, but Keith only spares a moment of relief before worry spikes like daggers across his veins as Lance struggles against trembling limbs to get out of the river.   
  
Before he knows it, he’s out of his chair and tossing proper clothes on. He’s half-out the door before he turns back to snatch his truck keys up. Where Lance is is only a few minutes walk away, but Keith can cut that down to about two minutes with his truck.   
  
And, he thinks, the faster the better.   
  
*****  
  
Keith makes it in a little under two minutes, and he barely remembers to put his truck into park before he’s out the door and sprinting toward Lance, who, Keith notes with a frown, is still only in his boxers.   
  
"Lance!” Keith shouts as he closes the distance between the two. As soon as he reaches the brunet’s side, he’s shrugging out of his coat and draping it over Lance’s trembling shoulders just as Lance slowly cranes his stiff neck up to meet Keith’s eyes.   
  
“My k-knight in s-shining armor,” Lance says, briefly shooting a sheepish grin toward the camera before turning his face back up to Keith.   
  
“Why are you…” Keith starts to ask, only to stop when he notices Lance fumbling with the clasp of his jeans. He drops into a crouch and gently swats Lance’s icy hands away. “Let me,” he tells the brunet as he moves through the motions of unclasping the two buttons. When he’s got the jeans undone, he looks back to Lance, and his breath scrapes to a halt at the sight.   
  
Lance is desperately trying to tug Keith’s jacket tightly around his shivering frame. His shoulders are hunched forward to combat the biting breeze, and his skin is colored a faint red that has Keith’s heart lurching up his throat.   
  
“Okay, new plan,” Keith says as he drops the jeans in favor of scooping Lance up bridal style. He hisses at the icy skin but offers no verbal complaint as he starts toward the truck. It’s hard, he thinks, carrying Lance when the brunet is shivering hard enough to practically jump from his arms, but he only uses this as heightened motivation to get Lance to the truck.   
  
When he reaches the truck, he gently eases Lance onto the passenger seat before leaning forward to crank the heat up as high as it will go. He adjusts each vent until they are facing Lance then spares a moment to cup the brunet’s burning cold cheek. “Let me go get your things, then we will get you home.”   
  
Lance is slow to nod, and years of boy scouts tells Keith that sluggish movements are not a good sign. He slams the door closed then races back to gather Lance’s clothes and snatches up the camera last. He peers into the small lens with a deep frown and clears his throat.   
  
“Lance is going to be fine,” Keith tells the viewers as he starts back toward the truck. “He’s… most likely hypothermic right now, but he will be okay.”   
  
With that, he turns off the camera and races back toward the truck as the sole idea of hypothermia bores down on him like a heavy weight threatening to drive him into the ground.   
  
*****  
  
It takes Keith a record ten minutes to get the two back to the apartment and to get Lance changed into dry clothes and buried under a mountain of blankets on the couch. After, Keith changes into a pair of boxers and a light shirt before he goes to peel back blanket layers until he can climb in directly beside Lance.   
  
He winces at the icy skin almost burning his skin, but he pushes past the pain to pull Lance flush to his chest.   
  
“Are you okay?” He asks the shivering brunet as he rubs his hands up and down Lance’s trembling back to try and generate heat, but Lance only responds by nuzzling his icy face into the dip of Keith’s neck, a signature motion that he uses as a non-verbal way to say that he doesn’t feel well.   
  
Keith’s heart plummets to the floor, but he tightens his arms around Lance as if he can squeeze the chill right from the brunet.   
  
“You will be okay, Lance. I’ve got you.”   
  
*****  
  
“So, I’m alive,” Lance tells the camera before dropping his head against Keith’s shoulder just as Keith wraps a strong arm around his faintly trembling shoulders.   
  
“Keith saved my life,” Lance adds before craning his neck up to brush a feather-light kiss across Keith’s jawline.   
  
Keith narrows his eyes toward the camera and let’s out a low growl. “Anyone else who dares this idiot to do something stupid will have to answer to me. Got it?”


	63. Lance with a Sinus Infection While On A Mission With Shiro and Keith

Space colds, Lance realizes with a huff of annoyance, are an actual thing. Apparently being a defender of the universe doesn’t give his immune system a free pass in the form of a tough barrier of protection.

He’s pulled from sleep with a harsh sneeze that has him jerking up with tense shoulders and sneezing sharply into his blanket. A light groan slips past his lips as his shoulders slump down, deeper than usual as if he didn’t just wake from a full night’s sleep.

For a brief moment, he thinks it could just be a fluke, a sudden tickle in his nose paired with an offset sleep, but he knows better. Years of being around big groups of people, whether that be a family that stretches on for days or classes at the Garrison, have resulted in many cases of a run-of-the-mill common cold, so he knows.

He could rest, but he’s not going to. It’s rare for people to take sick days for something as small as a cold, and he’s no ordinary person, not anymore. There’s no time for rest for the defenders of the universe, at least that’s what Keith always says before training each day.

He swings his legs over the bed, feet landing to the floor with a dull thud. They feel kind of heavy, he thinks as he stands, bones popping and cracking while he pulls his hands high above his head into a stretch. But, it’s okay, he tells himself as he shuffles toward his closet while still blinking away the haze of sleep coating his vision.

He can ignore it until it goes away; he’s used to pushing his feelings back to the far, borderline unreachable, part of his mind. It’s one of the perks of being a paladin after all.

*****

Lance has never had a cold last as long as this one has. He’s half-way through his second week with this pesky cold, and he’s starting to feel worse.

The added ailments were subtle at first, and he could almost brush them off. He’d been stifling sneezes for the better part of a week, so adding coughing to this list wasn’t that big of a deal, maybe a little more difficult but still manageable. Masking his growing congested voice required more skill in the form of strong enunciation and a confident voice that grated against throat like glass slowly sliding down his flesh. But again, he’s been able to hide the growth of his symptoms, and he’s been holding onto this thinning hope that this is nothing more than just a bad cold, maybe even an impressive chest cold at the most.

He’s also been able to deflect any sudden concern stemmed from a slip-up on his behalf with easy jokes paired with quick teasing, otherwise known as his golden combination that almost always has everyone either laughing or being annoyed with him.

But, he’s starting to regret not telling someone, especially now that he’s loading up in Black, trudging slowly behind Shiro and Keith as if slopping about through thick piles of mud.

Normally, he would be beyond thrilled to have been chosen to accompany the two on a small rescue mission, but he’s lacking in the energy department, so he can’t muster up any excitement whatsoever. 

He flops down onto a wall seat off to the side just as Shiro takes the center console seat with Keith hovering over his shoulder. Lance turns to stifle a few sneezes into the crook of his elbow while neither is looking, and he spares a moment of worry for how amazing his cold armor feels against his heated face.

Fever? Typical, he thinks as he mentally adds that to his running list of symptoms: sneezing, coughing, blocked nose, headache, and now fever.

“Ready?”

Lance snaps his neck toward Shiro’s voice and offers a wide smile that struggles to reach his tired eyes. “Let’s go rescue some aliens.”

*****

Snow crunches loudly under Lance’s boots as he follows Keith and Shiro, all three on edge. They have yet to find the owners of the distress signal, and there’s a creeping tension growing around the three, something that feels off, but the source appears just beyond reach.

A sudden snapping sound echoing from a short distance behind them has the three freezing in their tracks.

“Was that a tree branch?” Keith asks, and Lance spares a quick glance around at their empty surroundings.

“There aren’t any trees on this planet,” Lance points out right before the three whip around with their Bayards at the ready.

One quick look at purple skin has Lance firing with impressive accuracy despite his pounding head. “We’ve got company!” He shouts as he aims and fires. “And not the good kind!”

He shifts his Bayard just as Keith and Shiro charge forward for close combat.

“Cover us!” Shiro shouts, and Lance doesn’t need to be told twice.

The blue paladin aims and shoots, over and over while cautious of his two friends slashing away at Galra soldiers. Each bang of his gun feels like a weight of pressure pushing against his forehead, but he keeps shooting until the pressure suddenly divides and slides down and around to press hard against his eyes and temples. It feels almost as if there are large hands inside his head, pushing behind his eyes as if trying pop the two right from his head. And his temples are pulsing in time with his rapid heart.

It suddenly becomes too much too fast, and he drops to one knee, Bayard falling to the snow-covered ground with a dull thud. His head feels heavy; his neck can’t support it. It feels like a giant weight, and he struggles to rip his helmet off with trembling fingers in the hopes of relieving some of the weight.

“Lance!”

He tosses his helmet to the side before teetering forward until he’s braced above the cold ground on his hands and knees. Strong, deep-set coughs rip from his lungs, and he coughs and trembles until his eyes brim with tears.

“Lance!”

Keith’s voice again, louder and more urgent than the first time, and Lance really wishes the stupid mullet would shut up because the shouting is just adding to the pressure in his head. But, a sudden jolting sound of electricity echoes behind him, and he goes rigid.

“Ready to die, blue paladin?”

Lance spares a quick glance to his Bayard. It’s close enough, he thinks. He can do this. “Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ right before he’s reaching for his Bayard and rolling onto his back to take the shot. His finger on the trigger is just a hair faster than the Galra’s buzzing baton, and next thing he knows, he’s tossing his Bayard to the side to stop a lifeless Galra body from falling on top of him.

His arms shake as he catches the dead weight, and he just manages to lean up and shove the Galra off to the side before collapsing back against the snow with a weak cough. His chest is heaving as the sudden spike of adrenaline dwindles down until his ailments come back full force. He squeezes his eyes shut to ward off the brightness that further irritates his head, which is an uncomfortable mixture of pressure and pain, and contemplates sleep. Sleep seems good.

*****

“-ance? Lance!”

Very slowly, Lance pries his eyes open to address the voice that sounds so muffled and distant to his ears. He blinks, and while he can make out Shiro’s worried face hovering over him, the black paladin won’t stay still. He’s swaying, almost as if Lance is looking at him while under a rippling pond of water.

“Are you hurt?”

Lance isn’t sure how it’s possible, but he presses further back into the cold snow underneath him when Shiro’s voice is suddenly much louder and clearer than before. His vision clears, and he shakes his head before shivering as fresh snow brushes against the back of his neck.

“What happened?”

Lance lazily looks to the left to see Keith standing with his arms crossed, and he shrugs before forcing his heavy body up into a sitting position. The pressure in his head shifts and heightens with the movement, and he lets out a deep groan before dropping his heavy head into his cupped hands.

“Lance, what’s wrong? Is it your head?”

Shiro’s voice sounds like a megaphone positioned right beside his head, and he can’t help the soft whimper that escapes his lips. “You are talking too loud.”

There’s a light gasp before a softer tone from Shiro follows, accompanied with strong fingers wrapping around Lance’s wrist.

“Sorry, buddy. Can you look at me for a moment?”

Lance’s neck and shoulders ache when he lifts his heavy head, but he’s able to keep it upright as Shiro slips a glove off presses a cool palm to his forehead.

“You are burning up, Lance,” Shiro says, voice thick with worry as he flips his hand and slides it down to Lance’s cheek.

Lance wants to pull away, but then Keith is crouching beside him and placing a steady hand to his trembling back.

“You’ve been sick, haven’t you?”

Despite Keith’s voice being bright with concern, Lance can’t help but feel as if he’s being judged in a courtroom. He nods once, unable to form words around shaking lips.

“How long?”

Lance looks back to Shiro, and the sudden urge to cry under Shiro’s protective gaze hits him like a tidal wave, but he keeps himself together. He can manage that much for now.

“Over a week. I thought it was just a cold, but it got worse.”

“Worse how?”

Lance shrugs again. He wants to curl up on the cold ground and sleep for a year, but he clears his throat, only to be forced to turn away and cough harshly. “My head,” he sputters out in between coughs. “It feels really heavy.”

“Sinus infection,” Shiro spits out quickly with a frown, and both Lance and Keith turn toward him.

“How-”

“Matt,” Shiro answers, cutting Keith off. “He was notorious for working through colds until they blew up like this.”

Great, Lance thinks before badgering himself with questions on why he’s so stupid for not resting when he should have.

“You’ll be okay, Lance. We just gotta get you back.”

Shiro’s voice cut through Lance’s negative thoughts, and he nods once more before allowing the black paladin to help him to his feet. He’s falling before he can even process what’s happening, but Shiro is quick to steady him, like an anchor steadying a drifting boat.

“Think you can manage to hop on my back?”

No, Lance thinks as he nods. Shiro crouches down in front of him, and he climbs onto the black paladin’s back. When Shiro stands, Lance drops his pounding head against Shiro’s shoulder just as jerking tremors shoot across his veins and leave him shivering hard.

“You okay, bud?”

“Cold,” Lance mutters, teeth chattering loudly beside Shiro’s ear. He misses the worried glance Shiro and Keith share in favor of closing his tired eyes.

“I know, bud. We will get you back soon, okay?”

Already, Shiro’s voice sounds faint and distant, likes it’s but a lingering echo that’s seconds from fading completely.

“Kay.”

*****

When Lance wakes up, the first thing he processes is that he’s flat on his back and no longer clinging weakly to Shiro. When his vision steadies, he takes in the white ceiling above him. He pats his hands around to feel a warm blanket draped over him, and now he’s thoroughly confused.

“You’re in the med bay.”

Lance snaps his gaze toward the owner of the sudden voice and spots Keith straddling a chair beside the bed with his arms resting along the back of the chair.

“When did we get back?” Lance croaks out as he fights against a fleeting memory.

“A few hours ago. You were in and out of consciousness the whole trip back. Hunk’s pissed, by the way. I thought he was going to have a heart attack when we came back with you lying limp in Shiro’s arms.”

Lance frowns and presses one trembling hand to his head. The pressure is still there, but it’s growing weaker with each passing second, and the skin underneath his palm doesn’t feel terribly hot, just a little warm as a lingering fever still clings to him.

“I-” Lance starts, but his voice trails off when Keith suddenly lifts a hand.

“None of the ‘I’m sorry’ bullshit. You can’t hide illnesses from us, Lance.”

Lance’s eyes narrow as a spike of anger shoots across him. “You do it.”

“What?”

“You hide illnesses from us all the time. Don’t think I don’t know, Keith. You always get quiet when you are sick, and you move slower and don’t train for as long.”

Lance watches as Keith blinks slowly with a face colored in surprise. Victory tastes good, he thinks when Keith opens and closes his mouth as if struggling to find the proper words.

“I didn’t– I didn’t realize that you noticed.”

“You’re obvious.”

Keith sighs at this and slumps forward, chin resting atop his arms. “I’ll stop if you stop.”

Lance nods once, anger breaking away to a light smile that ghosts across his lips. “Deal.”

“For the record, you had me worried.”

A light laugh slips past Lance’s lips. “Please, you were probably already figuring out a way to merge Blue and Red into the ultimate Lion.”

Keith shakes his head but laughs quietly. “More like I was trying to figure out ways to save you.”

A deep blush spreads across Lance’s cheeks, and he jerks his head to face the ceiling. “Whatever. Just go get Hunk for me,” he says all too quickly, and he breathes out a low huff when Keith laughs louder before exiting the room.


	64. Shance ft. Sick Lance Confessing His Insecurities to Boyfriend Shiro

Fresher’s flu is a thing. It’s an actual thing. It’s not a myth to scare upcoming students out of college; it’s a real, live illness that smashed into Lance like a giant ocean wave that’s been building over him for days.

One day he was fine, the next he’s laid up in his tiny dorm bed, shivering through a fever that’s leeching warmth from his body and hacking up a lung every few seconds. He’s convinced that one of these times, he’s actually going to cough up one of these damn organs necessary for survival.

There’s a faint, chilling feeling lingering around his room; it feels almost as if the Grim Reaper is creeping in a shadowed corner and waiting for Lance to breathe out his last, dying breath.

At least, that’s what Lance told Shiro, but his very reasonable boyfriend assured him that his nasty fever was playing mind tricks, and then he left to get medicine, leaving Lance alone in the grips of his darting thoughts.

Lance curls onto his side and pulls his blanket impossibly tight around his shivering frame, and he mentally curses the damn, useless fabric for not doing it’s job in warming him. His muscles ache from the shivering, and he just wants his damn boyfriend to come back and provide is steady, grounded warmth that radiates from him like a sun warming a spring morning.

Shiro, Lance thinks while blinking around hazy vision as he stares toward his dorm room door. How did he get so lucky to wind up with a senior RA as his boyfriend? How did one chance encounter when going to Keith’s friend’s room end with a relationship Lance thinks he doesn’t deserve?

Shiro is perfect in every way, shape, and form. He’s the top of his class, rumored to graduate as the class Valedictorian. He’s the campus favorite RA, and he somehow manages a perfect balance of his RA duties, his studies, and his part time job as a life guard at a local Boys and Girls club. He should be too busy for a relationship, but never once has Lance felt like Shiro wasn’t there for him. He knows Shiro would drop everything he’s doing to be at his side, such as the older boy is doing now by skipping class to tend to Lance.

Lance shakes his head before pulling his blanket up to his mouth to cough harshly into it just as his lungs tremble against the illness running rampant through his body. He coughs and coughs, each one deeper and more painful than the last, and when he realizes he can’t breathe, he pushes up on shaking elbows to provide physical assistance for his seemingly failing lungs.

Each gasping cough echoes so loudly against his bare dorm walls that he fails to hear the door open and close, and it’s only until he feels the bed dip slightly followed by a steady hand to his back that he realizes Shiro is back.

“Easy, Lance. I know it’s hard, but try to breathe.”

Nodding, Lance pulls his focus toward his lungs. He imagines he’s but a tiny spec of a human flying through his larger body to get to his lungs. He watches as the two organs tremble with each cough, and he pictures himself whipping out a megaphone to shout “work, you bastards!”

Never say imagination isn’t key. Only seconds later, Lance is being gently eased back down to his pillow when his coughing tampers off. He watches through wavering eyes as Shiro turns away to rustle around the market bag he’s come back with. His eyes lazily trace each defined line of Shiro’s back muscles, serving as yet another reminder as to why he doesn’t deserve the older boy before him.

Shiro is all muscles and broad shoulders, and Lance can barely bench a fourth of his weight. He’s all unsteady limbs, similar to a baby deer walking along side a strong, steady buck.

“So I bought a little bit of everything,” Shiro starts with his back still facing Lance. “I wasn’t sure– Your fever’s really high…” He turns to face Lance with medicine bottles in both hands, and Lance pushes up weakly on one elbow.

His eyes study the jagged scar that spreads across the bridge of Shiro’s nose, a reminder of the hero Shiro is when he successfully protected prodigy son Matt Holt during a bus crash. His gaze slowly slides all across Shiro’s face, taking in the defined lines of his jaw that come forward to form a strong chin. One glance up, and Lance smiles faintly at the happy accident that is Shiro’s hair. Shiro meant to bleach it, but somehow this interesting hair style came out, and the older boy fell in love with it.

Shiro, Lance thinks, is perfect and attractive in every way, and Lance does not deserve this boy. In a matter of seconds, his heart is shrinking in his chest, and tears are slipping from his tired eyes.

“Woah, Lance? Hey…”

Lance can faintly hear the soft sound of medicine bottles falling back into a bag, but he just pushes himself up into a sitting position with his back pressed against the wall. He draws his knees up to his chest, as if willing his long limbs to appear impossibly small.

In front of him, the bed dips under Shiro’s weight, and a second later, a warm palm is cupping his cheek.

“Lance? What’s wrong?”

Lance jerks his head away from Shiro’s hand as silent tears slip down his cheeks. “You,” he whispers, voice cracking under the weight of the word.

“Do you want me to leave?”

A biting laugh mixes against a sob, and Lance whips his head around to face his boyfriend. “No I don’t want you to leave! I want to know why you date me!” The raised pitch of his voice has him turning to cough into his fist a few times. When he looks back, Shiro looks so unbelievably patient and worried, and it just has Lance crying harder.

“Lance, I don’t understand?”

“You are so perfect!” Lance starts, loud pitch wavering and cracking. “You are the golden boy on campus, and you pick me? Why? What am I? I’m just an ugly freshman who is struggling on scholarship! You are the God of this school! How am I supposed to fair against someone like you?”

Frowning, Shiro sits back slightly. “We aren’t against each other…”

A few coughs slip past Lance’s lips as he shakes his head. “No, and yet I feel like I’m in this never-ending competition to meet everyone’s standard. I see the way people look at me when I’m with you. They all are wondering why someone like you is with someone like me!”

“Lance-”

“And what about after college? You will go off and probably find the cure to cancer or become a successful model, but me? I’ll be here, and then I’ll barely graduate, and then I’ll go back to that stupid small town and waste away into the dirt!”

“Lance-”

“I can’t handle this, Shiro! I can’t take the looks or the looming future hanging over us! Why would you stay with me once you leave? I’ll go from a kind of nobody back to a straight up nobody because you will realize that all I will do is hold you back! I’m not good enough for you, Shiro. I will never be-”

Crushing lips against his has Lance shutting up almost instantly. His pupils blow out in surprise as his entire body goes rigid under the forceful kiss. When Shiro pulls away, Lance moves a shaking hand to his damp, tingling lips with wide, questioning eyes.

“Do you remember when we first met, and I told you that you were the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen?”

Lance remembers the night perfectly. He had gone alone to the dorm room number Keith has scribbled onto a paper for him, and when he knocked, Shiro pulled the door open and said those words to him. Lance can remember the breathless feeling that accompanied the deep blush that spread across his cheeks.

But, there had been multiple beer bottles littering the floor, so while he had been flattered, he hadn’t been stupid.

“You were drunk,” Lance argues, voice weak and trembling under the weight of Shiro’s firm gaze.

“I wasn’t. Keith was. He wasn’t handling college well and asked to come over to drink. I wanted to make sure he didn’t get too drunk, so I stuck to Gatorade and water.”

A small gasp slips from Lance’s lips. “Why did you say that?” He asks, voice a soft whisper.

“I don’t have a very good mind to mouth filter. I had seen multiple pictures of you, but nothing compared to in person. You were, and still are, the most beautiful boy that I’ve ever seen, and I am honored to be your boyfriend.”

A new wave of tears rush from Lance’s eyes. “But… I don’t…. I’m not… When you graduate-”

“I will still happily be your boyfriend if you’ll have me.”

Lance nods and leans forward to drop his burning face against Shiro’s chest. He melts into the touch of strong arms wrapping around him, and the two stay like this until Lance’s shaking morphs from crying to fever chills once again wracking his frame. He allows Shiro to ease him back against the pillows, and he welcomes the warmth of the blankets Shiro drapes over him.

A cool palm falls against his forehead, and he watches with tired eyes as Shiro frowns deeply.

“We really need to get your fever down now. It’s either that or a trip to the student clinic.”

“Would you carry me there?” Lance asks, lips pulling up into a lazy smile as his eye-lids droop low.

“I would carry you to the ends of the world if I had to.”


	65. Lance Sick With A High Fever And Speaking Spanish

_“Mamá.”_

_“Estás muy enfermo, mi hijo.”_

_“Realmente no me siento bien.”_

_“Lo sé, hijo mío. Estoy aquí.”_

Lance jerks awake with a loud gasp, chest rising and falling in time with his rapid heart as the lingering vision of his mother fades away against reality. When his surroundings steady within his wavering vision, his heart plummets in his chest. He’s not home. He’s in space, acting as a defender of the universe.

But, he thinks as he presses a shaking palm to his cheek. He can still feel the faint touch of his mother’s gentle hand caressing his burning cheek. There’s a slight tingle, and his lips curl up into a soft smile that contrasts his eyes brimming with tears.

“Lance?”

Very slowly, Lance shifts his gaze to the right until his eyes fall onto Keith sitting in a chair placed beside his bed. Lance blinks tiredly, again again, and with each fall and rise of his drooping lids, his surroundings shimmer and sway until they are morphing into a small bedroom holding a twin-size bed and a bunk bed. One glance up, and Lance can make out the glow in the dark star stickers littering his ceiling.

“Estoy en casa,” he rasps out, blood-shot eyes lazily moving about the room.

“Lance, what? Did you just speak Spanish?”

Lance can see that Keith is still there, a sore thumb sticking out in familiar surroundings. He’s not entirely sure why Keith is here, but who cares? He motions weakly with one hand.

“¿No ves, Keith? Estoy en casa.” 

Keith’s lips part slightly in silent surprise. His brows come together in a wavering crease of concern as he takes in Lance’s dull, almost lifeless, eyes looking about in a numbing, distant stare. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s standing on shaking legs and stumbling out the door to get help.

“Adiós.” 

*****

The other paladins stare down at Lance with varying looks of concern before Shiro carefully takes a spot on the edge of the bed.

“Lance, buddy? How are you feeling?”

Lance blinks slowly at Shiro’s words, and he shrugs. “No tan bien.”

“See? He’s only speaking Spanish!”

Frowning, Lance turns toward Keith, and he tilts his head slightly in question. But, when a cool hand cups his cheek, he moves along with the gentle guidance until he’s once again facing Shiro.

Shiro can already feel the heat of the fever against his finger tips, but he slides a palm to the brunet’s forehead to confirm the worst. An intense heat coats his palm in an instant, and he pulls his hand away with a low hiss.

“He’s on fire,” he murmurs under his breath, and Lance shakes his head rapidly in reply while wrapping his arms around himself.

“No, tengo frío.”

“What do we do?” Pidge asks, heart sinking in her chest as she watches the scene unfold about her worried eyes.

“We need to get his fever down somehow.” Shiro answers, eyes never leaving the flushed yet worryingly pale face sitting before him.

*****

“I feel like I’ve been run over. Or stabbed. Repeatedly.”

Keith shoots forward in his chair just as Hunk all but dives onto the end of the bed, and Lance jumps in surprise, body going almost rigid, a clear contrast to his racing heart. 

“You’re speaking English…” Keith says as he moves his face impossibly close to Lance’s, narrow eyes taking in every single portion of the brunet’s face.

“Yes?” Lance asks, rough voice sliding upwards slightly in pitch.

Hunk is off the bed and out the door in seconds, and Keith and Lance can hear his faint shouts from Lance’s room.

_“He’s speaking English again, guys! He’s okay!”_

****Translations in order of appearance****

_“Mom.”  
_

_“You are very sick, my son.”_

_“I really don’t feel well.”_

_“I know, my son. I’m here.”_

“I’m home.” 

“Can’t you see, Keith? I’m home.”

“Bye.” 

“Not so well.” 

“No, I’m cold.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These translations come from spanishdict.com. (I only know very little Spanish, so...)


	66. NB Pidge Sick and Fainting

Since travelling to space and becoming a paladin, everyone has learned to adapt to the new setting in different ways. Keith occupies his time training. Lance and Hunk spend countless hours comparing Altean food to their vivid knowledge of human food. Shiro alternates between training with Keith and bonding with his lion, and Pidge explores the caste in search of new technology to fiddle with.

Every now and then, Pidge hits a jackpot and gets sucked into the inner workings of a device unfamiliar to their human eyes. So, when they stumble upon a small, beeping instrument pressed into a wall just outside the lounge, their lips curl up into a smile, and they flop down on the floor in front of it to delve into the strange device.

After two hours, Pidge discovers that the device is a scanner of sorts, and that knowledge alone triggers an endless pit of opportunities that has them working well past the paladins’ typical time for sleep.

It isn’t until they hit a slump in the exploration that Pidge decides to call it a night… or morning. They aren’t sure anymore at the time as they slowly get to their feet, bones cracking and popping against disuse, and shuffle back to their room.

The bed, Pidge thinks as they trudge into their room, looks like a concrete piece of heaven, and it’s only then that Pidge realizes just how tired they truly are. There’s a subtle, yet evident, deep-set ache clinging to their bones, and it’s accompanied with dull throb blooming across their temples. Their stomach is grumbling, but there’s no discomfort with it, so Pidge doesn’t think twice about that as they flop face-first onto the bed, ignoring the uncomfortable press of their metal glasses against their face as sleep takes quick hold.

*****

In what feels like only five seconds later, Pidge is being pulled from sleep by a loud voice shouting across the castle’s comms.

_“Be down at the training deck in five minutes.”_

Pidge frowns at Keith’s voice and curses Shiro’s compliance in giving Keith the freedom to call mandatory training sessions at any given time. They sit up to get out of bed, and it’s only when the lingering anger at being pulled from sleep wears off that Pidge realizes very quickly that something is amiss.

Their stomach is twisting in tight knots that leaves them doubled over with one hand wrapped tightly around their abdomen. Their eyes are screwed tightly shut, and their face is pinched closely in pain. Their rebelling stomach isn’t their only symptom, as Pidge finds out only moments later when a tickle in their nose has them falling into a sneezing fit, shoulders hunching upward and tensing as they sneeze harshly into their blanket. Their sneezing fades off into a few weak coughs that don’t bode well with their churning stomach.

They attempt at sucking in deep, measured breaths to ease through the nausea running rampant, but after two harsh breaths in that are morphed into weak coughs, their stomach lurches, and they clamp one hand over their mouth and stumble into the small bathroom.

Pain shoots up their knees as they drop to the floor in front of the toilet, but they disregard it in favor of heaving violently into the toilet. Their entire body is tensing through gags then collapsing into fits of tremors during brief bouts of relief, and this goes for minutes on end. By the time their stomach settles, each muscle in their body is trembling from exertion combined with a sudden onset of chills.

Standing proves to be difficult for their knees buckle under the sudden absence of adrenaline, but they latch onto the edge of the sink to keep from toppling over. A small gasp slips past their lips when they spare a glance into the mirror. Their face is damp with sweat and paler than normal, with only two glaring red spots coloring their cheeks. Their bangs are plastered to their forehead, and their glasses are askew across their eyes. They are the spitting image of sick and disheveled, and a sudden spark of fear strikes through them.

This is too fast, Pidge thinks as they start out of the bathroom on shaking legs. They are sporting all of the symptoms for a typical flu, and yet, they were relatively fine yesterday, albeit a little more tired than usual when they finally opted to go to bed. They hadn’t exhibited any other symptoms except, they think, slight fatigue, and this in itself has them worried enough to shove out of their bedroom in search of help.

They have to take a minute to wait for their surroundings to stop swaying in slow waves when they step into the hall, and they turn to sneeze a few times into the crook of their arm before suddenly jumping at a loud banging sound coming from a few doors down.

“Lance, wake the hell up!”

Pidge knows it’s Keith, but for just a fleeting moment, they think Keith is Matt. On instinct, they turn toward the shouting, and Keith shoots a sharp look toward them.

“Pidge! Hurry up and get dressed and get to the training deck!”

Pidge winces as Keith’s loud voice feeds the headache pounding across their head, and they spare a wavering glance toward their bedroom door before starting toward the training deck, ignoring Keith’s request in favor of getting Shiro for help.

The halls underneath their feet are moving in inconsistent waves to where they teeter from left to right as the walk. Around them, the plain walls darken in color and appear to come to life. Matt’s face presses out from the walls in doubles and triples, and he calls out to them. But, Pidge knows this isn’t real but rather just a product of a fever-induced hallucination. Despite this, their heart still sinks in their chest at the fleeting sound of Matt’s desperate voice.

By the time they reach the training deck, they are drenched in a slick sweat that severely contrasts the steady chills wracking their small frame. Barking coughs keep pushing up their throat, and they’ve sneezed enough to where their nose physically hurts and their eyes brim with tears. To be frank, they are a mess, and they step into the training room with a chesty cough as a form of greeting.

“Pidge?”

All at once, Pidge can’t hear over their rapidly pounding heart. They know Shiro is approaching them, but he’s coming at them in twos and threes. A dark grey begins to cloud their vision, and in the blink of an eye, the grey shoots to black, and Pidge’s entire body goes slack under the weight of the illness.

*****

Pidge wakes to the feeling of something cool and damp being brushed down their cheek to their neck. A moan of relief slips past their lips, and though soft, the small sound is enough to have them shooting up into a coughing fit that’s harsh enough that they almost puke where they sit.

“Easy, Pidge.”

There’s a large hand placed against their back, not moving but serving as a steady presence that keeps them grounded as barking coughs rip up their throat.

Pidge knows it’s Hunk before turning to see, and moments later, shadows hover in front them, and they look up to see Shiro and Allura staring down at them in concern. The two are quick to drop into a crouch just as Pidge’s coughing tampers off, leaving them panting in desperate attempts to get air back into their lungs.

“Pidge, you are terribly ill.”

Pidge can only nod at Allura’s worried tone, voice lost against the ragged gasps that are still the product of desperate lungs.

“Why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?”

Pidge shifts their eyes toward Shiro at the sound of his concerned tone, and they shake their head while forcing in measured breaths. “I,” they start weakly. “I wasn’t.”

“This was sudden?” Hunk asks from behind them, and Pidge unconsciously leans into Hunk’s warmth as tremors once again have them shivering.

Nodding, Pidge swallows back the nausea threatening to end disastrously. “I was okay, just a little tired. Then when I woke up, I wasn’t okay.” The sentence, Pidge knows, isn’t that revealing or helpful, but it’s all they can manage against their pounding head.

To their surprise, Allura tenses in front of them, prompting the three paladins to shoot questioning looks in her direction.

“There’s an Altean illness called Soul Swallow. For Alteans, the symptoms gradually increase over a long period of time, but it could be the opposite for humans.”

“Soul…Swallow?” Hunk asks with a trembling voice as his arm tightens around Pidge’s waist. “Is Pidge going to lose their soul?”

“No,” Allura answers, though her eyes hold a different response. “Pidge will be fine so long as we start treatments immediately. The illness is similar to,” she pauses, tapping lightly at her chin, “the flu. That’s what struck Lance a few weeks ago, correct?”

Beside her, Shiro nods, and Allura clears his throat.

“The only difference with this is the speed at which the symptoms come and the outcome.”

Pidge is trying desperately to follow along with the conversation, but after hearing Soul Swallow, their mind went worryingly blank. It isn’t until they feel they are being lifted into Shiro’s strong arms that everything catches up to them.

“I’ll be okay?” They ask weakly, not missing the subtle tension that shoots across Shiro’s arms nor the sudden hand patting the top of their head.

“Of course,” Allura says as she leads the group out of the training deck and toward the medical facility.

Pidge is slow to catch onto the slight tremor in Allura’s voice, but when they do, they bury their face into Shiro’s chest, feeling weak and vulnerable and longing for Matt and their father.

“You are going to be just fine, Pidge.”

“Yeah! We’ve got you!”

Shiro and Hunk’s words have Pidge relaxing in Shiro’s arms, and they nod and mutter a soft “okay” just as the three enter the medical room.


	67. Lance Sick with a Sunburn

“What planet has three freaking suns?” Pidge asks as she slowly walks back into the castle. Her skin is tinged a deep red that’s burning and painful, and the other paladins are sporting similar looks and burns after performing a casual exploration mission on a new planet that did not end well in their favor.

All had thought it would be safe to dress in casual clothes, and now all are suffering the consequences with painful burns splayed across their skin.

To a blind eye, Pidge, Keith, and Shiro seem to be the worst off, but Hunk and Lance aren’t any better. Their skin appears two shades darker, and both are sporting an unhealthy pinkish tinge that enforces how miserable the two are feeling.

Allura and Coran were quick to inform the paladins that the pods wouldn’t be able to heal something they had know prior knowledge of, so the others opted to retreat to their rooms for the day and rest off the heat exhaustion mixing uncomfortably with the burns.

Lance is quiet as he shuffles to his room. His legs feel wobbly, and he teeters back in forth as if his body is struggling to find a grounded balance. He’s quick to blame this on the heat and the burns leeching the energy right from his very core, and he pays no further thought to how drained he felt when he woke up this morning as he trudges into his bedroom.

He normally struggles with the hard mattress, but when he flops down face first onto it, a low moan of relief scrapes up his dry throat. He buries his face into the pillow, relishing in the cool fabric pressed against his skin, and drifts off into a dreamless sleep almost instantly.

*****

“-ance.”

Lance stirs but doesn’t open his eyes while he silently hopes Keith’s voice is just a small fragment from his fleeting dream.

“Lance, if you don’t wake up, you won’t get dinner.”

This is enough to have Lance prying one eye open. He groans when his vision clears away to Keith’s red face hovering over him, and the subtle sound tickles his throat until he’s coughing weakly into his pillow before shifting a tired eye back toward Keith. 

“I’m not hungry,” Lance tells Keith before he closes his eye, but instead of sleep coming back toward him, he feels a heated breath brush across his skin. Frowning, he opens both eyes to see Keith crouched right in front of him, face mere inches from his. There’s a tiny glint of concern coloring Keith’s eyes, but before Lance can question this, Keith is reaching forward to press a palm to Lance’s forehead. 

“What are you doing?” Lance asks flatly as he fights against physically jerking away from Keith’s searching gaze, but Keith ignores him. 

For an endless minute, Keith is silent as he moves his hand all about Lance’s face, and Lance is on edge by the time Keith finally drops his hand. 

“You’re warm,” Keith mutters, tone holding a tiny waver that Lance picks up on despite the dull throb pushing at his temples. 

“Yes,” Lance says slowly, almost mocking. “We all are. Don’t you remember when we were all frolicking about on a planet with three freaking suns?” 

Keith waves his hand about as he searches for the right words to say, and Lance can only watch with one brow quirked up in half-amusement as Keith’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly. 

“It’s... You’re... It’s different. You feel feverish.” 

In response, Lance lifts a weak hand and lightly slaps it against Keith’s cheek, leaving it there just long enough to feel the heat of the burn before he drops his hand back to the bed. “Likewise,” he says against the annoyance washing over Keith’s face. “I’m sure we all do because we all got sunburned.” 

A loud huff slips past Keith’s lips as he gets to his feet, and he turns sharply on his heel and exits the room without a word. 

For a brief moment, Lance thinks Keith is going to get someone else, but before he can act upon this subtle fear, sleep is pulling him back under, and he willingly succumbs to another round of endless dreams. 

*****

When Lance is pulled from sleep by deep-rooted coughs pushing up his throat, he spares a brief thought about how waking up to Keith’s face was a lot better than waking up to his lungs rattling in his chest. By the time his coughing tampers off, he’s left hunched over and panting for breath as slick sweat slides down his heated face. 

His entire body feels frighteningly hot; he feels as if he’s being held over a large flame to be cooked for someone’s dinner. He tugs at his shirt collar in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the heat, but it’s a futile attempt, and he lets his hand drop back to the bed with a low sigh. 

“This sucks,” he rasps out as he slowly gets off the bed. He contemplates a cool shower, wondering if cold water would chase away the heat, but the mere action of standing has already sucked half of his energy up. Instead, he opts to head out toward the others to see what the day has planned. 

As he staggers down the halls with his eyes squinting against the bright lights, his mind clutches onto this desperate hope that the others will be feeling as poorly as he is thanks to these burns and will want to spend the day resting, but that fleeting hope dwindles away to nothing when he shoves open the dining room door to see everyone eating and chirping about as if they aren’t suffering from a suffocating heat. 

The room falls silent when he steps in, so much that it’s as if someone suddenly pressed a mute button on the room. He drags his tired gaze across all of the faces, pausing when he spots Keith’s arched brow look that all but screams “I told you so.” 

“What?” Lance asks, narrowing his gaze to combat the one Keith is shooting him. 

“You look worse,” Keith replies, and Lance waves his comment off with a light cough as he stumbles toward his seat. 

“How are you feeling, Lance?” 

Lance swallows thickly as a hint of nausea washes over him when he spots the food goo on his plate, and he does his best to not focus on how the mere smell is leaving his stomach churning as he snaps his gaze to address Shiro’s question. 

“I’m fine,” he tells the black paladin with a hefty sigh. “I’m just really hot,” he adds, fanning himself with one hand to emphasize the point. 

Hunk leans over in his seat beside Lance to brush the backs of his fingers against Lance’s cheek, and when Lance tries to swat his hand away, he catches Lance’s wrist with his free hand as a frown splays across his lips. 

“You guys, he’s really hot.” 

“How else am I supposed to feel with these sun burns?” Lance questions sharply just as Pidge gets from her seat and wordlessly leaves the room. “Where’s she going?” He asks as he tries to direct the conversation elsewhere, but the others favor watching him with varying looks of concern until Pidge returns a minute later with a small device in her hand. 

“Is that-” Lance begins just as Pidge steps forward and shoves a thermometer into his mouth. “Where did you-” He tries, moving his lips carefully around the small instrument, but his words fall short when Pidge pops him on the back of the head. 

“I made it. Now, shut up.” 

By the time the device beeps, everyone has gathered around to get a good look, and based on the mixture of sharp gasps and wide eyes, Lance assumes the reading is not good. 

“Lance, really, how are you feeling?” Shiro asks as he steps forward to cup a hand against Lance’s neck. His tone is dripping with concern, and Lance lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. 

“Just really hot. Maybe a little tired.” 

“Keep going.” Keith says as he crosses his arms. 

Lance shoots Keith a sharp look before he breathes out a low sigh. “My throat and head hurt I guess. Maybe my stomach hurts a little too.” Based on the sympathy coloring Shiro’s eyes, Lance assumes that he can’t blame his sun burn for this. He lifts one hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m sick, aren’t I?” 

“Sounds like it,” Shiro says, voice deep and worried. “We should get you back to bed.” 

Lance allows Shiro to pull him to his feet, but he digs his heels into the floor to keep himself planted where he stands just as Shiro tries to pull him out of the room. 

“Lance-”

“Did we have plans today? Like, Galra fighting plans or something?” Lance questions with a strong voice that grates against his throat. 

“Yeah, we had plans today,” Hunk tells Lance with a soft smile that has Lance frowning and tensing against Shiro’s grip. 

“The Galra-” 

“No. You,” Keith supplies with a loud sigh. “I told them you weren’t well when I went to you last night.” 

Lance gives in at this and moves along with the gentle tug on his arm. When passing, he whispers a weak “traitor” toward Keith that carries no heat with it just before crossing the doorway back into the hall to get to his room. 


	68. Keith Trying to Hide an Injury ft. Coran Being a Horrible Liar and Mad/Worried Lance

When Keith limps into the pod room, he spares a quick glance toward Coran before moving toward the closest pod.

“Keith, my boy! What-”

“I hurt my leg earlier.” He starts through clenched teeth as one hand ghosts over his throbbing leg. “I’ll be in a pod until dinner, but don’t tell anyone,” he adds, voice low and borderline dangerous with no trace of pain. “I don’t like when people fuss over me. It’s unnecessary.”

Keith nods for Coran to open the pod, and Coran seems hesitant but falters under the weight of Keith’s piercing stare and opens the pod.

Keirh offers a nod in thanks before he steps into the pod, and Coran closes the door reluctantly. He doesn’t like this, not one bit. His nerves are sparking like small bursts of flame as he exits the room and starts down a hall with the small hope that pacing the castle will clear his thoughts.

He lasts two minutes until Lance appears in front of him, and he can already feel his composure crumbling underneath the wide, wondering eyes approaching him.

“Hey, Coran! Have you seen Keith?”

Like a fist thrusting through a cracking mirror, Coran’s composure shatters to the ground. His heart picks up in speed until it’s a rapid thump against his chest, and sweat clings to his temples. “Keith? I didn’t see him. Nope. He must be in his room, or the training deck, or in a pod.” The words spill off his tongue. “Who knows,” he adds with a weak laugh. “Certainly not me.”

Lance picks apart each word with tense shoulders and a deep-set frown. “Did you just say pod?” He asks slowly, and Coran jumps back slightly at his low tone.

“What?! No! That’s absurd! Why would Keith be in a pod other than to hide an injury from you guys-”

“What!?” Lance shouts before he’s darting past Coran to get to the pod room. His heart is beating loudly in his ears, so loud that he fails to hear Coran break into a sprint behind him until the older man crashes into his back just as Lance skids into the pod room.

“Lance, he doesn’t want-”

“I don’t care what he wants.” Lance snaps as he moves until he’s standing in front of the pod Keith is in. “It’s his leg, isn’t it? He fell during the mission. It looked like it hurt.”

Coran mutters a small “yes” while his shoulders slump down in defeat. “He said he doesn’t like when people fuss over him.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Lance spits out sharply before he takes a seat in front of the pod. “You can tell the others where he is. I’ll be here.”

“Lance-”

“Tell them, Coran. They deserve to know.”

Coran wants to press further, but the tension lining Lance’s shoulders has him turning on his heels to inform the others of Keith’s injury.

*****

When the pod whirs open, Lance gets to his feet just as Keith stumbles out against a blast of icy air. He watches in preparation to catch Keith in case the latter wasn’t in the pod long enough, but Keith is quick to gain his footing.

“Mantener secretos de alguien no es diferente de mentirles.”

Keith snaps his gaze at the slur of Spanish and frowns hard at Lance. He has no idea what Lance said, but the mere fact that the brunet is here has him sighing loudly.

“I told Coran-”

“To hide this from us? I know.” Lance spits out, voice bitter and hot as if shooting across a flame. “You are an idiot.”

Shrugging, Keith starts toward the door, but Lance’s fingers wrapping around his wrist as him jerking to a halt. “Lance,” he starts with a huff, but when he glances over his shoulder and sees the pain coloring Lance’s eyes, he turns fully to face the brunet.

“You should have told us.”

“I don’t like when people fuss.”

“You should have told us,” Lance repeats with more force that leaves his voice cracking slightly. “We’re a team. You have to tell us when you are hurt.”

“Everyone would make a big deal,” Keith counters with a tired voice, and Lance tightens his grip around Keith’s wrist.

“You could have told me.”

“I-”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course!” Keith snaps before pulling his hand free from Lance’s unrelenting grip. “I’m just used to handling this stuff alone, okay?”

Lance steps forward until he’s impossibly close to Keith. “You aren’t alone anymore,” he mutters. “You have us, and you can tell us.”

Keith’s stern composure falters under Lance’s driving gaze, and he breathes out a loud sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again. You,” he says while jabbing his index finger against Lance’s chest, “will be the first to know. Does that sound good?”

Lance nods as his lips pull up into a smile, and Keith rolls his eyes before starting toward the door.

“Uh, Keith-”

“I’m starving,” Keith says, ignoring Lance as he approaches the door.

“Keith-”

“What was for dinner?” Keith absently asks just as he pulls the door open to see everyone hovering in the hall. “What the-”

“Keith, what the hell?”

“You can’t hide stuff from us, you asshole!”

“I’m sorry, Keith…”

“What you did could have yielded severe consequences not just for you, but for your team and the mission.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Keith slams the door closed and shoots a dangerous gaze over his shoulder toward Lance.

“Ah, I forgot to mention I had Coran tell the others…”

****Translation** (according to spanishdict.com)**

“Keeping secrets from someone is no different than lying to them.”


	69. 4 Times Shiro Protects Lance, and the 1 Time Lance Returns the Favor

**1.**

Lance can’t help but get lost in the heat of battle when he’s got Blue on his side. He feels a driving sense of power that swells in his chest, and he moves with it like a bullet shooting toward its target. He flips and dives around the other lions with his eyes trained on a clear spot.

He can hear the others calling out over the comms, telling him over and over again to stop, but he doesn’t, not when there’s such a clear target that he knows he can hit. So, he swoops around until he’s positioned right in front of the one, vulnerable spot unprotected on the Galra Ship, and he ghosts a finger over a button on his console. Just one press, and he can end this, he and Blue can end this for everyone.

The tip of his finger touches lightly against the button, and next thing he knows, Black is colliding against Blue, and Lance and Blue are left tumbling toward the side just as Black takes a strong hit from an enemy ship that snuck up on the group.

It takes a lot of hushed pleading for Lance to regain control of Blue, but by the time he’s straightened up, he’s facing Black, with Yellow and Red supporting her on either side. He wants to ask over the comms if Shiro is okay, but his voice is lost against a weight of guilt and fear pushing down on his limbs until they tremble.

_“Lance, are you okay?”_

Shiro’s voice comes over the comms, and the black paladin sounds so frantic and so concerned that Lance can do nothing but sag in his seat while muttering out a weak “yes.”

**2.**

The suggestion to dine with an alien species as an attempt to gain allies doesn’t bode well with Shiro, but any reservations are lost on Lance when he’s seated with the others at a massive table of food. He can feel drool pooling in his mouth as his eyes glisten while scanning all across the food; he couldn’t name a single thing, but it’s not green food goo and that’s good enough for him.

Small silver chalices are passed around the table, and Lance takes his and swirls the dark liquid around with a wide smile. It looks like wine but carries no scent, yet Lance cannot wait to try it. He’s feeling particularly parched since he skipped breakfast, and he wants nothing more than to suck down this cool liquid to ease his raw throat.

He’s got the chalice pressed to his lips when Shiro suddenly wraps strong fingers around his wrist. Lance suddenly freezes, causing the liquid to slosh about in the cup, and he eyes Shiro with a sideways glance. When he catches sight of the studied concern coloring Shiro’s dark eyes, Lance wordlessly moves the chalice from his mouth and hands it to the black paladin, who tips it over a piece of food.

The group watches as something that looks suspiciously like a purple piece of broccoli withers and burns against the dark liquid that filled Lance’s cup. Lance sinks back against his chair and wraps his arms around himself as his face collapses into a spark of pain and concern. He watches as the other paladins mimic Shiro’s move by pouring their drinks over various pieces of food, but to their surprise, they get no acidic reaction like the one that came because of Lance’s drink.

“Good work, team Voltron. You passed the test of wit.”

All eyes shift toward the head of the table where the leader of the alien species sits with his elbows propped up on the surface. Lance swallows thickly at a pit of panic clogging his throat just as Shiro tenses beside him.

“That was the wrong move.”

Shiro’s voice is a dangerous growl that severely contrasts the steady, comforting hand he has placed to Lance’s knee, and moments later, everyone is up and charging in for a fight.

**3.**

Lance had been more than surprised when Shiro asked him, specifically, to travel to a small village on a distant planet to retrieve supplies for Allura. Their princess had assured that no danger would come to them on this planet, so the two opted to dress casually.

Lance dresses in his day-to-day outfit, and when he climbs down the stairs to get to the small pod he and Shiro would be taking, he stops in his tracks and eyes the black paladin with a questioning stare. Shiro is sporting a dark pair of jeans and boots, and he’s got thick grey jacket placed over a plain black shirt.

“You have other clothes,” Lance says as he closes the distance between the two, and Shiro breathes out a light laugh in response.

“I do,” he tells Lance as the two get into the pod to travel to the new planet.

The village is small and civil and freezing cold. Lance shivers against a sharp breeze and subtly leans closer to Shiro as the two walk past small huts. He crosses his arms tightly across his chest and clenches his teeth together as tight as he can manage without pain to keep them from chattering.

“Lance? Are you cold?”

Lance wants to be annoyed that Shiro seems unbothered by the icy winds, but verbal replies will give way to a shaking voice so he opts to nods weakly instead as he bounces up and down in a poor attempt to generate warmth.

“Here,” Shiro says as he slips his jacket off and drapes it across Lance’s trembling shoulders, and Lance wants to protest, but any complaints are lost against the comforting warmth that has him breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Does that help? I don’t want you to get sick.”

Lance tugs the added jacket tight around his shivering frame and nods quickly. “Thank you,” he breathes out, breath clouding in front of him. When Shiro wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close to his side, Lance snuggles into the warmth and tells Shiro, “You’re the best.”

Shiro laughs at this, a small laugh that carries a load of heart with it.

“Come on. We will get our stuff then get out of here.”

**4.**

Lance can’t help but think that he and Shiro make a good team as they fight off a group of Galra in hand-to-hand combat. Shiro slices away from a close distance while Lance covers the black paladin from a little way off. Everything is going as well as it could be, all things considered, until one Galra sneaks up behind Lance.

Lance can hear the damned solider, but before he can take a chance to whip around and shoot his face off, Shiro is suddenly shoving Lance into a wall and jumping up to slice the Galra down in one, large swing. When the soldier’s body drops to the floor in a listless heap, Lance breathes out a loud sigh and tilts his head as he faces Shiro.

“I knew he was there.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to do everything in my power to protect you.”

The words pile in Lance’s head until his neck feels heavy, and he freezes under the weight of Shiro’s soft yet determined stare. “Thanks,” he mutters, unsure of what else to say when pitted against the saint that is his leader.

“Of course,” Shiro says right before running back into the fight, and for a moment, Lance can only watch with wide eyes and a slacked jaw as the black paladin strikes down Galra after Galra.

It takes a solid minute to shake away the creeping feeling that’s leaving him frozen in his spot, but once he’s back, he readies is Bayard and aims toward the general direction the Galra are coming from in preparation to stop any fight before it starts.

**+1.**

For a moment, time moves in slow motion for Lance just as a blaster shot shoots toward Shiro. He takes the time to weigh his options, and he zeros in on the realization that Shiro is irreplaceable for a multitude of reasons. He uses this as his drive when he takes the first step toward the scene; his surroundings cut back to regular speed, and he spares a moment to thank his family genes for his long legs as he leaps in front of Shiro.

He hears Shiro’s strangled scream before he feels a hot, blooming explosion crash against his shoulder. The pain is searing, and he crumples to the ground as blood rushes in his ears. He can faintly make out the others charging forward to kill whoever shot him, but his vision is growing blurry and oddly white.

“Lance? Lance! Stay with me!”

Lance slowly drags his gaze all across Shiro’s worry-stricken face, and he shoots the black paladin a lazy smile as his eyelids threaten to drop completely. “Don’t worry, Shiro. It’s just a shoulder wound,” he says, voice slow and tired, as if talking is the most tasking act he’s been faced with.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Shiro spits out sharply, tone a clear contrast to the concern splayed across his face.

Lance shrugs, only to hiss out in pain. Bad move, he tells himself. Don’t move the damn shoulder. “You can’t always be the hero,” Lance mutters out in between clenched teeth.

“Lance,” Shiro warns, and Lance forces his eyes open and narrows his gaze.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, you will. And when you are, we are going to have a talk about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as a Birthday fic!   
> (I am super behind on posting my tumblr fics onto here.. My bad.)


	70. Galra Interrogation ft. Sick, Sassy Lance and Worried Keith

Keith struggles against the two Galra soldiers who are holding him back as another set of soldiers shove Lance toward the center of a large room. Keith jerks forward in desperate attempts to break free and get to Lance, but the fingers wrapped around his arms are tight and strong and dig into his armor hard enough to bruise.

Keith and Lance have talked many times about what to do in the case of interrogation, but that was before Lance fell ill while the two have been locked up in a Galra cell. It’s been, Keith thinks, roughly a week since the two have been captured, and two days in, Lance started to cough. The coughing was small at first, just occasional slip-ups here and there, but by the following day, the coughing had tripled in intensity until the brunet was left doubled over in harsh fits that that had him breathless.

Then the fever came.

There had been no warning. Lance had lied down on the cold floor to rest, and within an hour, he was practically burning a hole into the floor yet shaking hard enough to rattle the small cell. Keith could only watch helplessly as Lance wilted away before him and provide touch-based comfort, something he’s struggled with his whole life.

For four days, Keith could only card trembling fingers through Lance’s sweat-soaked hair and utter out hushed reassurances as the brunet drifted in and out of fevered, fitful slumbers that did nothing to replenish the energy his fever was leeching from him. A few times, Lance’s fever spiked high enough to where Keith was sure he was going to lose him, but Lance is a fighter, even when plagued by an illness with nothing to ease the obvious pain he’s in.

Lance bounced back from the spikes everytime; it was almost as if the fever was teasing the two by sky-rocketing to remind the two of the situation they are in.

When a group of Galra soliders came to take them into an interrogation room, Keith had hoped that it would be him and not Lance they took, but instead, both boys got hauled across the large base until they reached a large room with towering pillars, a chair that could easily pass as a throne at the head of the room, and long tables lining the sides of the room.

Of course, the Galra paid no mind to Lance’s condition and opted to take the brunet to the center of the room, leaving Keith where he is now, helplessly watching along the sidelines with a growing pit in his stomach that pushes up to clog his throat.

With Lance in the center of the room, Keith watches with eyes colored in worry as the brunet’s knees buckle without the support from the two soldiers, but to his surprise, Lance holds his ground. He doesn’t drop to a knee; he doesn’t pass out; he just sucks in a few measured breaths around hacking coughs and centers himself before turning a dangerous eye toward the two soldiers now before him.

Keith knows it’s an act; he can see the sweat slipping down Lance’s temples. He can see the brunet’s chest rising and falling in sharp pants that stutter against coughs, but Lance doesn’t tremble or quake under the Galra soldiers’ taunting gazes. Instead, the brunet crosses his arms and cocks one hip out to the side before titling his head to the slide slightly.

“Can we get this over with?” 

Keith’s scream is masked by the large fist colliding with Lance’s face, and he pushes hard against the strong grips holding him back as Lance stumbles back with a loud gasp.

“You’ve got sass, boy.” 

Lance drags his knuckles under his bleeding nose just as his lips curl up into a slight, dangerous smile. “Puede agradecer a mi madre por eso.”

Jesus Christ, Keith thinks as he shoots a sharp look toward Lance. What the fuck is Lance thinking? Again, he struggles against the tough grips keeping him held back, but the two soldiers behind him don’t budge. He opts to call out instead; he doesn’t want Lance to talk, but he isn’t sure how many hits the brunet can take.

“Lance,” Keith calls out, voice a mixutre of fear and warning. 

Lance spares a sideways glance toward Keith before he drags his attention back toward the two Galra before him with a harsh cough. “So, your questions?”

“What was that language you spoke?” 

Lance’s smile only grows, and he ticks off a checkmark in the air. “That counts as one of your questions, right? It’s Spanish.”

The soldier in front of him growls at the taunting tone just as the other speaks up when Lance is forced to turn away to cough harshly into the crook of his elbow.

“What is that?” 

Lance frowns. “What is what?”

“That sound you keep making; the sound that leaves you breathless.” 

Lance rubs absently at his throat. “Coughing. I’m sick because of your shit hospitality.”

Keith’s pupils blow out to an impossible size just as one of the soliders swings a heavy foot against Lance’s ribs, leaving the brunet crumpled to the ground with a whimperd cry.

“Lance!” Keith jerks and pulls, digging his feet into the floor below him in a poor attempt to race forward just as another foot crushes down against Lance’s arm. There’s a loud cracking sound that echoes against the walls, and it’s followed by a strangled scream that has Keith seeing red. 

“Lance!” He tries again as he twists hard against the grips keeping him back. “Stop! Do what you will with me, but leave him alone!” 

A foot comes to a halt right above Lance’s right leg, and the soldier assualting Lance turns a slow gaze toward Keith. “Anything I want?”

Keith’s chest is rising and falling in time with the adrenaline coursing through his body, but his nod is slow and small. He narrows his eyes. “Whatever you want. Just leave him alone.” His voice is low, dangerous, but the tiny hint of fear is still there, evident enough for Lance to catch on despite writhing in pain.

“Keith-”

“I’ll be okay,” Keith interrupts, only sparing one pained gaze toward Lance before returning to a taunting, dangerous demeanor as he takes in the solider walking toward him. 

“We should do as he says. This one runs hot, hotter than I think is normal for this species. He will probably die soon. He is no use to us.” 

Keith shoots a panicked glance toward the other Galra soldier who is running steady hands all across Lance’s face and body. The weight of the soldier’s words push down on Keith’s shoulders, and his knees buckle, threatening to drop him to the floor. He tugs on the small string of willpower still remaining and just barely keeps himself upright as the soldier walking toward him stops only inches from his face.

“I want answers.” 

The words taste bitter on Keith’s tongue as he tosses out all plans he and Lance had made when it came to potential interrogation scenarios. “I’ll tell you whatever you want, but you have to leave Lance alone. Let him go. Let him leave.”

The soldier before him makes a big show of considering this, and Keith tries to tune out Lance’s cries of protest. It’s hard when Lance’s voice sounds so strong and panicked despite his condition; it leaves Keith’s heart stuttering against his chest. The thought that this may be the last time he sees Lance is hot on his mind, but all thoughts come to a screeching halt when a loud blast rings out and strikes the soldier in front of him.

For a moment, no one moves as the soldiers falls into a lifeless heap against the floor, but time catches up to Keith, and he utilizes the shock of the moment to wriggle out of the grips holding him back. He swings one elbow toward one soldier’s face before he whips his leg against the other’s feet, leaving the damned soldier crumpling to the ground with a loud curse.

He doesn’t wait to see if the two are coming after him as he leaps over the dead body in front of him to tackle the soldier still beside Lance. The two fall to the floor, and Keith gets in three sharp punches before he’s rolling off the body to get to Lance.

“Lance, are you okay?” Keith’s words are fast and sharp. He knows full and well that Lance is not okay, based on the ashen complexion paired with two bright fever flushed cheeks, but he wants to hear Lance’s voice. A small reassurance, but a reassurance all the same. 

Before Lance can answer, a familar voice rings out from a distant balcony.

“Get down!” 

Keith drops on top of Lance, using his body as a shield as a second shot flies over the two to strike the Galra close to them. Lance grunts painfully underneath the weight, and Keith is quick to sit up once he’s sure they are safe. He hears two more loud shots followed by two more bodies dropping dead to the floor before he sees Shiro leaping from the balcony with Pidge and Hunk hot on his heels.

“About… fucking time.” Lance mutters in between a few weak coughs as his eyelids flutter as if wanting to close.

“You cannot sleep,” Keith hisses as he claps one hand to Lance’s cheek. “Do you hear me? You have to stay awake.” 

“What happened?” Pidge asks. 

“Is Lance okay?” Hunk questions only seconds later as he hovers around the two.

Shiro surveys the situation with a studied eye before clearing his throat. “Questions later. Right now we have to get out of here.”

Keith doesn’t need to be told twice. He hops to his feet and swats Shiro’s hand away as he crouches down to slide one arm around Lance’s shoulders and the other behind Lance’s knees. “I’ve got him,” he mutters as he stands with Lance cradled to his chest. He’s tired, exhausted even, and weak. His legs tremble against the added weight, but he can’t let Lance go. He won’t let Lance go.

Not now. Not ever.

It’s Hunk who steps forward with a worried frown. “Keith, are you sure? Shiro or I-”

“I said I’ve got him!” Keith snaps, and Lance groans in his arms. 

“Dude, don’t… yell at.. Hunk. S’not cool.” Lance’s words are becoming slurred and are cut off by weak coughs and ragged breaths.

Keith sighs at this, but the fear dancing across his veins as him tightening his grip around the brunet. “Sorry. Can we just go?”

“There’s an escape route that should take us right to our lions without Galra interference,” Pidge says as she starts toward a door Keith doesn’t recognize. “We’ll have to be quick, though.” She pauses and turns a questioning gaze toward Keith. 

Keith nods, a silent confirmation that he can be as quick as need be despite feeling like he wants to collapse. His answer is enough for the others start after Pidge with Keith being the last to follow.

“Don’t… fucking drop… me.” Lance manages out, and despite the fever raging in his body paired with the numbing pain shooting across his arm, he pulls his lips up into a teasing smile that has Keith swallowing down a lump in his throat because they are going to be okay, an idea he never thought possible after countless hours of watching Lance suffer against the weight of his fever. 

“I hate you,” Keith replies with a cracking voice, but both know he doesn’t mean it.

****Translation****

“You can thank my mother for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lord the amount on tumblr that i still need to post on here..


	71. Band Camp AU ft. Some Injured and Sick Band Members

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, Lance is on color guard, Shiro plays snare drum, Keith plays tenor drums, Hunk plays tuba, Pidge alternates between flute and piccolo, and Matt plays saxophone. Coran is the band instructor, and Allura is the History teacher who also instructs color guard part time.

All Lance has to do is spin his rifle up into the air and catch it, and then the drum line comes in to relieve color guard. His wrist gives a sharp twinge of pain when he flips the rifle up, but he keeps a smile plastered to his face as he holds the same hand up to catch the rifle. He can see the rifle quickly spinning back down to him, but the second it hits his hand, he lets out a gasping cry as hot pain shoots across his wrist. The rifle thumps against the grassy field, and Lance is quick to go down with it, falling to one knee while cradling his wrist to his chest. 

“Lance!” Keith shouts, already setting his tenor drums down as quickly and carefully as possible to get to the brunet. He reaches Lance’s side in seconds, and his heart jerks uncomfortably in his chest when he catches sight of the fear coloring Lance’s eyes.

“Let me see,” Keith says, voice firm, as he gently takes Lance’s hand within his own. 

Lance hisses and pulls his face into a wince when Keith presses and prods against his wrist, and tears pool in his eyes as Keith’s expression progressively shifts from serious to worried with each press on the wrist. 

“I just need to ice it,” Lance tries, voice wavering, He can feel every eye on him, and he wants to build back up his casual front to assure the others that he will be fine, but Keith isn’t having any of that. 

“You need your brace.” 

“The brace restricts my wrist movement.” 

“That’s the point.” 

“Keith-”

“Lance,” Keith interrupts, voice colored with a deep concern. “Your wrist has only been getting worse. You keep this up, and you won’t be able to compete come September. You need to give your wrist a break.” 

Lance shakes his head and swallows against the panic in his throat. “I’ll sit out with my brace if you sit out.” 

Keith’s brows pull together at this, and he leans away from Lance slightly with a frown. “Why would I sit out?” 

“Your ankle-”

“Is fine,” Keith finishes sharply as he gets to his feet. Sure he took a bad tumble last week under the weight of heat exhaustion and twisted his ankle, but he’s fine now. There’s only a slight lingering pain that he can manage through well enough. He doesn’t need to rest, and he’s about to press this further, but a voice from off to the side cuts him off. 

“Your ankle isn’t fine, Keith. Just sit out with Lance.” 

Keith snaps a narrow gaze toward Shiro. “My ankle is fine.” 

“You were off time.” 

Keith scoffs. “I was not.” 

“Actually, Keith. You were.” 

Keith falls silent and drags a hesitant gaze toward Coran. He can’t argue with the instructor on this issue; he’s already toeing the thin line as it is by being back on the field so soon. He and Lance both are, and the only reason the two are able to get away with it is because of their needed skill. 

Defeat tastes sour on Keith’s tongue, but he mutters out a “fine” before crouching down to snake an arm around Lance’s waist, helping the brunet to his feet. 

“Go indoors,” Allura suggests with worry clear across her face. “Get cooled down, and Lance?” 

Lance reluctantly pulls his gaze toward his instructor. 

“Ice for a bit then put on your brace.”

Nodding, Lance drops his gaze back to the grassy field with sagging shoulders. He hates this; he hates feeling weak, injured, unable to do what he loves most. Keith must since his inner distress because the arm around his waist tightens, and despite the heat of the day, Lance leans into Keith. 

Keith turns his head, lips brushing against Lance’s hair. “It will be okay. You will be okay.” 

Lance can hear the hesitance in Keith’s tone, but he nods all the same, taking Keith’s comfort as its own form of remedy as the two enter the air conditioned classroom. 

*****

“Let’s take five,” Coran calls out, doing his best to keep his voice light and cheerful despite stealing glances toward the classroom where two of his best try to ice injuries away. He turns toward Allura, and the two share a silent conversation before Allura starts swiftly toward the classroom, leaving the others to stumble toward the cooler for drinks. 

Shiro contemplates going after her to check on the two, but one quick glimpse at Pidge and Hunk downing water has him shrugging off his snare drum and starting toward the cooler, lips and mouth incredibly dry and in desperate need of water. 

He’s half way to the cooler when he suddenly stops, spotting Matt still standing in position with his saxophone clutched tightly in trembling hands. He spares one glance back to see Hunk dumping his remaining water over his head before he breathes out a soft sigh and starts toward the older Holt sibling. 

“Matt?” Shiro asks as he closes the distance between the two. “You coming to get some water.” 

Matt is slow to turn his head toward Shiro’s voice, but when he does, Shiro sucks in a sharp gasp. While everyone is hot and sweaty, Matt is thoroughly drenched in sweat, worryingly so, and Shiro knows the signs before he has to ask. He steps forward, taking Matt’s saxophone and placing it gently on the grass beside the two before he reaches out for Matt’s hand. He presses the tips of two fingers to the small indent of Matt’s wrist, cursing under his breath at the rapid pulse. 

“Matt,” Shiro starts slowly as he moves around until the two are facing. “Can you tell me how you feel?” 

Matt seems to consider this for an endless moment before he can find his voice. “Tired,” he says, opting to remain vague despite the borderline suffocating exhaustion weighing him down. “Head hurts,” he adds, shooting Shiro a knowing look. 

“Can you make it to the classroom?” 

Again, Matt takes a long time to consider, but ultimately, he shakes his head. He’s dizzy; his head feels incredibly heavy, and everything is spinning in a consistent loop. 

Shiro’s frown is deep set and prominent. He’s watched one too many friends drop from heat exhaustion over the last few weeks, and he doesn’t want to watch Matt drop as well. “I’ll carry you.” 

Matt can only nod, and the second Shiro has Matt safely cradled in his arms, he hears a panicked shout. 

“Matt!” 

It takes Pidge only seconds to cross the field toward her brother, and Hunk is hot on her heels. 

“What’s wrong? Shiro?” 

To Shiro’s surprise, Matt rolls his head over until he’s facing his sister and shoots the smaller girl a weak smile. “Heat exhaustion,” he tells her. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll take him to the classroom. Get him cooled down,” Shiro reassures Pidge before starting toward the classroom at a swift pace that Pidge matches with a struggle. 

“I’m coming with,” she says, voice firm but laced with concern. She’s jittery with panic, but Hunk’s large hand on her shoulder brings her calmly down. 

“You know Matt will be okay,” Hunk says with a wide smile as he matches Pidge’s pace. “He always is.” 

Pidge smiles and nods, eyes determined, just as the group marches into the classroom. 

Coran watches from the top of the tower, and he breathes out a loud sigh, draping himself half across the rails. This year’s band camp has certainly been rough, and he knows there’s only more to come; there’s always more to come.    


	72. VoltronWhumpWeek2k17 Day 1: Fever (Ft. Sick Keith and Caretaker Lance)

Exhaustion is a heavy weight around Keith’s shoulders. Between classes, work and baseball, sleep is a luxury he can’t seem to afford often. At most, he gets around four hours of sleep a night. He can hear Shiro’s clipped, worried tone grating in the back of his mind and telling him how unhealthy and dangerous that is, but what’s a guy to do? 

Professional baseball is his goal, has always been since Shiro first gave him a baseball when he was eight. But, staying on the team means keeping his grades up; plus, some scouts don’t only look at his playing. Some will dive deeper into the world of academics to see which players can properly balance school work and sports. 

Keith is determined to be that player; he’s determined to be the athlete that every scout desires. So, if he loses sleep because of this, then so be it. He’ll manage. 

At least, he thought he would manage. 

Four days before mid-terms, he wakes with a headache, something familiar to him but slightly concerning all the same. It’s not bad, he thinks as he forces protesting to muscles to move into a sitting position. A slight throb bleeding out from his temples and spreading across his forehead.  Some ibuprofen will most likely clear this up, he tells himself as he swings his legs over his small dorm bed. 

He gets to his feet and moves through the motions of getting ready for class as if on autopilot. His movements, he notes, are slightly sluggish, but whose wouldn’t be after only having three hours of sleep? He slips on a long-sleeve black shirt to fight the creeping chill of fall and pairs this with some grey sweats and his black boots. 

One look at his reflection from his small wall mirror shows a pale, sunken face with cheeks tinged slightly red. With a frown, he presses the back of one hand to his cheek, focusing on the slight heat that warms his chilled hand. His mind supplies fever in an instance, but he shuts this idea down as he tugs his hair up into some excuse of a ponytail. He did just wake up after all. His skin is probably still warm from sleep. 

He turns away, no longer wishing to look at his poor reflection, and shoves the books littering his small desk into his backpack. On his way out, he grabs the ibuprofen bottle and slips into a side pocket of his backpack before leaving his dorm. 

*****

The walk to class is only a five-minute walk across the campus Green and down two sidewalks, but it feels like ten years to Keith. Regret is his baseball jacket still draped across his desk chair in his dorm. His meager shirt does nothing to protect him from the biting wind carrying traces of a possible early winter, and he wraps his arms around his trembling frame and quickens his pace. 

By the time he stumbles into his classroom, his teeth are chattering, and the small headache from before is rapidly shifting to mirror the feeling of a jackhammer against his skull. He slides into his seat, wishing he snagged a granola bar from the shelf in his room before he left so he could take the ibuprofen now. But, his hazy mind doesn’t appear to be working in his favor, so he’s going to have to fight against this slamming headache until after class. 

He’s just reassuring himself that he can manage when Lance McClain walks into the room, all bronze skin and long limbs and loud voice shouting toward someone in the hall, most likely someone from his swim team. 

Lance’s voice grates against Keith’s already pounding head, and he drops his heated forehead onto his desk with a low groan just as Lance slips into the seat beside him. 

“Long night?” 

Keith sighs, shifting his head until his cheek is pressed against the desk with his eyes facing Lance. The desk’s surface feels heavenly against his warm cheek, but he’s still shaking hard. He wraps his arms around himself just as Lance arches a brow at him. 

“Are you okay?” 

Dark blue eyes lock onto Keith’s heavy-lidded ones, and Keith hums in a non-verbal form of an answer that Lance doesn’t accept in the slightest. 

“You’re shaking,” Lance presses, leaning forward enough that Keith sighs louder and sits up, wincing as the slight movement punctuates his throbbing head. 

“It’s cold outside.” 

“We’re inside.” 

Keith snaps a sharp gaze toward the brunet. “Well, I’m still cold.” He spits out before turning his gaze back to the front of the room just as the teacher walks in. Thankfully, Lance drops the subject matter, and Keith lays out his books across his desk just as the teacher starts talking. 

He’s not sure when, but sometime during the three hour lecture, he falls asleep with his head pillowed on his arms after telling himself to just rest his eyes for a moment. It’s only when he’s being shaken awake that he realizes the class is over, and Lance is crouched beside his desk with a deep frown. 

“Why’re you still here?” Keith asks, voice rasping slightly, as he sits up. 

“Keith, I think you should go back to your dorm and rest.” Lance says in lieu of response, and Keith matches the brunet’s frown. 

“I can’t miss class.” Keith says, but when he tries to slide out of his seat, Lance stops him with a cool hand to his forehead. 

Lance hisses sharply and pulls his hand away. “You’re burning up! You need to go rest.” 

Keith swats Lance’s hand away and gets to his feet, but the second he’s standing, the heaviness weighing him down shifts to a floating feeling. He blinks, once, twice, but with each fall and rise of his eyelids, the room sways more. 

He’s not aware that he’s falling until he’s pressed against Lance’s toned chest. Damn swimmers. 

“Woah, Keith!” 

At this, Keith winces and shoves weakly away from Lance. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“You’re not.” 

“Well, I have class,” Keith fires back against chattering teeth. Fuck, he thinks. Why can’t he get warm? 

“You’re at the top of every class.” 

“I have practice.” 

Lance sighs. “You’re the most popular choice for captain next year. I’m pretty sure the team will live if you miss a practice.” 

Keith wants to ask why Lance knows all this, but his head hurts too badly to move further on this. “I have work,” is what he opts to say instead as he reaches for his backpack. He’s got one hand wrapped around one strap, and Lance reaches over to snag the other strap. 

“Call out.” Lance says firmly before his face falls into a clear expression of worry. “Keith, you’re running a nasty fever, you’re shivering, and you just almost passed out. You need rest.” 

Keith wants to fight back, but his body betrays his need to be successful, and next thing he knows, Lance is draping his swimmer’s jacket over his shoulders and guiding him out of the room with a steady hand to his back. 

When the two step outside, Keith instantly moves to pull Lance’s jacket closer to him, and Lance responds be pausing long enough to zip the jacket up for Keith before snaking an arm around Keith’s waist as the two start the slow trek back to Keith’s dorm. 

The entire walk, Keith is inwardly cursing himself for this happening. He’d been careful, but not enough, and now he’s going to miss a full day because of it. But, he can’t deny the exhaustion settled across his trembling limbs, nor can he deny his throbbing head that has him squinting. 

When they finally reach his dorm, Lance helps him inside with a low whistle. 

“How did you get a dorm to yourself?” 

“I don’t do roommates,” Keith mutters as he stumbles toward his bed. 

“What does that even mean?” Lance questions as he snags a bottled water from Keith’s mini fridge before running a wash cloth under the small sink in the poor attempts at dorm kitchens this college supplies. 

Keith drops down onto the edge of his bed and fights against swimming vision to slip his boots off. “It means people don’t like me,” he spits out, voice sharp, piercing. “Can we stop with the questions now?” He adds as he buries himself under his blankets, still in Lance’s jacket. 

Lance stays silent, and Keith’s eyes flutter closed, only to snap back open when something cold drapes across his forehead. “Go to class, Lance,” Keith groans, not wanting to tell Lance how amazing this cloth feels on his heated forehead. 

“Shouldn’t I stay in case you need help? Your fever seems really bad, Keith.” 

“I’ll be fine with sleep,” Keith mutters, eyes already falling closed once more. He hears Lance place the bottled water on the night stand, and moments later, he hears the familiar creak of his desk chair. 

“You aren’t leaving,” Keith mutters against chattering teeth. 

“Nope,” Lance says, popping the ‘p’. 

“Don’t touch my stuff,” Keith groans before pulling his blankets tighter around his shivering frame. He can hear Lance rifling through his desk drawer, but before he can snap at the brunet, sleep pulls him under. 


	73. Voltron Whump Week Day 3: Near Death/Blood Loss

During battles, whether it be hand-to-hand combat or with his lion, Hunk likes to mentally recite recipes; it relaxes him, keeps him grounded, focused, there. 

During a Galra base infiltration, he positions himself off to the side of a balcony to spot Lance, who is leaning half-over the balcony to spot Keith, Pidge, and Allura, with Shiro absent and still working around nightmares from captivity. 

Hunk’s securing his grip on his bayard as he cycles through recipes, opting to go with a classic chocolate chip cookie one. 

Pre-heat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit, he tells himself, muscles tensing as he listens to the clashing of blade against blade from the floor below. While Lance seems focused, the brunet doesn’t seem concerned, and Hunk takes this as a good sign for now. But, he doesn’t relax; he keeps his eyes trained on and around the brunet. 

Mixing is next, he reminds himself. Butter, vanilla, sugar, and a single egg in a large bowl. The key is to mix those ingredients together before adding the flour, baking soda, salt, and chocolate chips. Most people assume they messed up by this point because of the stiff dough, but one would want the dough to be stiff. 

A cloaked figure suddenly drops from the ceiling close to Lance, but the brunet fails to see or hear over the firing of his own bayard. But, Hunk sees, and he leans forward with a white-knuckle grip around his own bayard. He’s got a clear shot, but the mystery person is too close to Lance; his bayard shot could jolt Lance with enough force to knock the brunet right over the balcony. 

Next is placing the dough in small doses about two inches apart onto an ungreased cookie sheet, Hunk mentally recites as he very slowly places his bayard to the ground just as the distinct glimmer of a knife catches his eye. 

He’s running toward Lance as fast as his heavy legs will allow. 

Bake for eight to ten minutes or until the cookies take on a light brown color, he tells himself as he jumps in between the blade and Lance. 

Take them out, let them cool, and enjoy. 

The blade pierces through Hunk’s armor to jab into his stomach, and he’s falling with a loud gasp just as Lance spins around to see what’s happening. 

It’s funny, Hunk thinks, how adrenaline masks pain. He can physically feel the blade sticking out of his stomach; he can feel the uncomfortable pull of his skin that’s been broken by the blade, and he can feel at the cool metal literally jostling inside of him as he falls. Yet, he can’t feel pain. 

His body hitting the ground is punctuated by a piercing scream from Lance, and just a moment later, the cloaked figure falls dead beside him. Hunk stares, vision hazy, at the body. He doesn’t feel physically here. He kind of feels like he’s teetering a dangerous rope that’s neither here nor there. He’s just floating, existing. 

“Hunk!” 

There’s a hand on his shoulder and a second pulling his helmet off. 

“Hunk, can you hear me?” 

“Lance, what happened?!” Keith shouts from the first floor. 

“It’s Hunk! He’s been stabbed!” Lance calls over his shoulder with a shaking voice.

Every voice sounds like it’s underwater. Still, Hunk tries to follow the shouting despite a concerning darkness creeping at his vision. 

“Hunk, buddy? You with me?” 

Hunk’s vision is going grey, yet he can still make out Lance’s welling, worried eyes hovering over him. He nods, unable to form words around the massive lump in his throat, and his gaze is slow to shift toward the others running toward him. 

“Shit.. Shit! Okay, we’ve got to pull back. We’ve got to get him to a pod.” Keith says, raking a trembling hand through his hair as he stares with wide eyes at Hunk. 

“We need to keep the blade in, or he’ll bleed out.” Pidge informs, both arms wrapped around her shaking body. 

Hunk’s entire body is going cold, cold enough that he starts to shiver under Lance’s hand. 

“Can we get Shiro down here to help?” Lance questions, looking over his shoulder to the others. 

“He’s already on his way.” Allura tells them. 

“Guys,” Hunk rasps out, and everyone goes rigid as all eyes drag toward him. “Not… to alarm anyone, but… I’m cold.” He knows what this means; and he knows that they know what this means.

He didn’t think he’d actually die out here in space, but it seems like his time is inching near. He can feel death’s icy grip wrapping around his body, and he supposes if he has to go now, he’s glad the last thing he will see is his best friend’s face. 

Darkness washes over his vision, and the last thing he hears is Lance’s cracking voice shouting his name before he falls under the weight of unconsciousness. 

*****

Hunk stumbles out of the pod when the doors open, and he lands into a pair of open arms. The owner stumbles against his weight but holds, and Hunk pulls away just enough to see Lance’s tear-stricken face before he tightens his arms around Lance’s trembling frame. 

“Do I want to know what happened?” He asks, unable to pull a solid memory from his jumbled mind. 

Lance steps away, one hand ghosting over Hunk’s stomach. Yet, he shakes his head, and Hunk pieces enough together to know nothing good came out of stumbling from a pod to Lance’s crying face. 

Hunk pulls Lance back in for another hug just as the doors off to the side slide open to reveal the others stumbling in with varying looks of relief. 

In just seconds, there are multiple bodies pressed against him, and everything is so warm, so loving, that Hunk just sighs, burying his face into the crook of Lance’s neck with a jolt of content shooting across his veins. 


	74. Lance sick at choir practice

Choir competition season is no joke, and for Lance, who came in as a freshman amateur with no background choir experience yet who managed to steal the top tenor one position from senior choir member Lotor, the pressure to succeed weighs heavy on his shoulders. So, when he wakes the morning of their final rehearsal before competition from a forceful sneezing fit that shakes his entire frame, he’s feeling slightly panicky.

He holds onto the hope that it’s allergies since the seasons are shifting, with fall trying to push away summer’s lingering heat; he even goes as far as to take allergy relief medicine before class, but the ten-minute walk from his dorm room to the choir room takes a lot out of him. And, by the time he’s slipping into the room, his nose is near-constant running, and a dull headache is drumming along his temples.

He managed to snag some paper towels from the bathroom before the rehearsal, and he’s got one pressed to his nose as he drops his bag for later classes against the wall before moving to get to his spot on the risers.

“You okay, Lance?”

Lance leans back against the safety bar along the back of the top riser and cranes his neck to look past two people to get a glance of Keith. He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s forced to turn away and sneeze sharply into the crumpled paper towel.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Keith comments, voice holding an edge of worry that Lance waves away as he sneezes once more.

“I’m good,” he mumbles around the paper towel.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

With an eye roll, Lance turns his attention toward Lotor, and he arches one brow as he moves the paper towel away from his face. “I’m fine,” he spits out.

“Your stuffy voice says otherwise.”

“The sight of you makes me sick.”

Keith snorts at this, but before anyone can reply, Shiro squeezes his way up, with Hunk and Pidge following close behind, and drapes a large arm around Lotor’s shoulder. “Fighting already?”

Smirking, Lance offers a nod of greeting to his friends. He’s, what people will often say, untouchable. He’s incredibly close to being able to call Keith Kogane, sophomore captain of the baseball team and top second tenor, his boyfriend; his best friend Hunk is the school’s top wrestler and is well-liked by literally every person in school; he’s close friends with Pidge, who is smart enough to be a junior despite a high school age; and then there’s Shiro, Mr. Perfect, well-liked by the entire college, predicted to be valedictorian, and destined for greatness.

Needless to say, Lance has enough back up to last him a lifetime.

“I’m merely commenting on how Lance is sick.”

Shiro’s face falls into a mess of concern. “You’re sick?”

“No,” Lance groans, but before he can add more, he’s got the rough paper towel pressed to his nose once more to sneeze harshly once, twice, three times. “Allergies,” he mutters, even though he knows it’s more than that.

None of his friends seem convinced by that answer, but they don’t press further; they only go to their own places, Shiro and Hunk with the baritones and Pidge with the altos, and just seconds later, Allura comes in with Coran hot on her heels.

“Okay, singers! Let’s get to work!”

*****

For the first hour, Lance manages to the best of his abilities, but he’s growing weaker, and he’s struggling to stifle his sneezes. He can’t get through a single phrase without being forced to turn away and sneeze into the rough paper towel that feels as if it’s rubbing his nose raw. The choir members closest to him are starting to shoot him varying looks of concern and disgust, and the off feeling carries over to Allura before Lance can do any damage control.

Allura drops both hands to her side, prompting all singers to stop singing. “Lance, are you sick?”

“No,” Lance says quickly with a rapid shake of the head. “It’s just allergies.”

Allura considers this for an endless moment before Coran steps away from the piano and moves to stand beside Allura. “Come here, my boy.”

“You’re done,” Lotor whispers as Lance eases his way to the floor from the top riser.

Lance crosses his arms, hands hugging his elbows in a defensive stance as he approaches their pianist.

“Coran, I’m-” Lance tries, words falling short when Coran smooths a large hand over his forehead.

The silence that coats the room is tense, unnerving, but after a few moments, Coran drops his hand with a sigh as he turns to Allura.

“He’s got a fever.”

“I don’t-”

“Go home, Lance.”

Blue eyes blow out at Allura’s sharp words. He looks to his teacher with a pleading face. “Allura, please. I’m okay. I can do this.”

“You can’t. You will go home and rest for the entire day so you will be ready for tomorrow. You will not go to any other classes, Lance. Do you hear me? Go home and rest. We need you tomorrow.”

Nodding, Lance drops his gaze to the floor and quickly grabs his bag before exiting the classroom. The second the door closes behind him, he sneezes sharply into another crumpled paper towel, groaning as he pulls the makeshift tissue away with a loud sniff.

He’s just starting toward the building’s exit, shoulders sagging from the combined weight of defeat and his cold, when he hears the choir door slam, and he spins around quickly to see Keith jogging toward him with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Keith, what are you-”

“I don’t need this rehearsal,” Keith starts, and Lance can’t disagree with that, not with Keith being the top second tenor.

“So, I left to take care of you instead.”

Lance shakes his head, pressing one palm to Keith’s chest. “We can’t afford you getting sick, too.”

“I won’t get sick.”

“Someone’s confident,” Lance spits back, voice slightly teasing.

“I really won’t, Lance. Let me take care of you.” Keith says, cupping Lance’s cheek. “I’m worried about you.”

Lance rolls his eyes, but a small smile plays on his lips. “It’s just a small cold.”

“Well, let’s keep it that way,” Keith replies, snaking an arm around Lance’s waist. “Your dorm or mine?”

Lance doesn’t even have to consider this as he leans into Keith’s side.

“Yours, of course. Lotor hangs around my floor too much. It’s annoying.”

Keith laughs at this as the two start walking toward his dorm.

“As you wish, blue eyes.”


	75. Lance getting flowers for a date with Keith, only Lance is allergic

The date’s been coming together as smoothly as the final pieces of a puzzle displaying a stunning, complex image. Keith and Lance’s relationship had been rocky, for better lack of words. Many assumed they would never be able to work past their differences to even be friends, yet they pushed against all odds, and Keith made the move and asked Lance out once the two had sealed a friendship for a few months. 

Lance, of course, had been over the moon when Keith asked, and since then, he’s been plotting the perfect date. All that’s left is to piece together a beautiful bouquet from the local flower shop then he can pick Keith up and whisk his date off to dinner and a movie. 

When he opens the door to the flower shop, a small bell chimes over head, and moments later, Shiro pops up from behind a shelf of vases. 

“Hey, Lance!” 

Lance has only known Shiro for a few months, but he’s fond of the guy. Shiro’s the type of person who is incredibly easy to talk to, and the two had become quick friends. 

“Hey, Shiro. What’s up?” He asks, rubbing absently at his nose as a soft smile plays at his lips. 

“I should be asking you that,” Shiro says, motioning toward Lance’s outfit. “Finally got the big date with Keith?” 

Lance nods, sniffling quietly as he starts further into the store, fingers ghosting above various flowers. “Yep! I wanted to pick out a bouquet for him.” 

“That’s sweet,” Shiro says, voice gentle, earnest. “You want any help?” 

“Nah, I’ve got this,” Lance says as he leans forward to closely examine a cluster of red roses. He knows red is Keith’s favorite color, but he’s not sure if roses would be too forward of a gesture. He straightens his back with a slight cough that has him frowning and rubbing gingerly at his throat. 

He was feeling fine before, more than fine, yet there’s a persistent itch building in the back of his throat. A brief flash of hot panic shoots across his mind, bringing with it vivid images of childhood days in the hospital after severe allergic reactions that triggered his asthma, but, he thinks to himself, shutting down all memories, it’s been years since he’s had a bad reaction. 

Don’t these things fade away with time? 

He clears his throat and continues picking through the various flowers, but the itch at the back of his throat begins to burn and grow until he’s turning away to cough into the crook of his arm. He figured one or two coughs and he’d be fine, but the second he starts, he can’t stop. It’s almost as if his lungs cannot take in enough air against a massive, burning lump clogging his throat. 

“Lance? Are you okay?” 

Looking toward Shiro is a struggle for Lance’s eyes are filled to the brim with tears, but he can still faintly make out the older boy’s worried features. He shakes his head and wraps one hand around his throat. “Can’t,” he wheezes out around rattling coughs. “Breathe.” 

“Shit! Okay, hang on!” 

Lance nods, watching against hazy vision as Shiro storms to the front of the store. His legs buckle, and he’s slumping toward the floor with harsh, dry coughs that seem to never end. 

*****

“Lance!” 

Lance looks up from his spot on the back of the ambulance to see Keith racing toward him, face deeply flushed and chest heaving as if he’s just run straight from work. 

“Keith,” Lance starts as the boy gets closer. “What-”

“Are you alright? Shiro called me and told me everything! What the hell were you doing in a flower shop if you’re severely allergic?” 

Lance’s gaze finds the cracked pavement of the small parking lot once more just as his shoulders slump enough to have the small blanket that’s draped over his shoulders slip down some. “I wanted to get you flowers for the date,” he mutters. 

For an endless moment, Keith is silent, but Lance cannot find the courage to pull his gaze back up. He’s so sure that this sealed his fate. Why would Keith want to be with him now? Why would-

“You’re insane.” 

It’s not the words that have Lance snapping a quick gaze up, it’s the light tone laced with concern. “You aren’t mad,” he says, voice forming a statement and not a question. There’s nothing displayed across Keith’s face that shows anger in the slightest. 

“What? No. Jesus, Lance. No. I’m just worried.” 

The sincerity in Keith’s tone has Lance’s eyes welling with tears. He struggles to form words, but luckily, he doesn’t have to because Shiro is walking toward them with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. 

In an instance, Keith spins on his heel and promptly blocks Lance from the flowers. “Shiro, what-”

“They’re fake.” 

Lance leans over to peek around Keith’s protective stance. “What?” 

“We have some fake flower in the back,” Shiro explains, handing the bouquet to Keith for inspection. 

Lance shifts his gaze to the fake flowers in Keith’s hands. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Shiro offers a quiet nod before taking his leave. 

“How about a date in tonight?” Keith suggests, thumbing a fake rose as he turns back to Lance. “I can cook you a nice dinner than we can watch a movie.” 

Lance doesn’t want to admit the exhaustion that’s settled over him after this whole ordeal, but Keith can see it without having to ask. Both know Lance wouldn’t make it through the dinner and movie tonight, not after an asthma attack of that severity. 

Nodding, Lance slowly slips off the back of the ambulance, abandoning the small blanket in favor of finding Keith’s hand with his own. 

“That sounds nice.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll go back and correct any errors eventually. I promise!


End file.
